


When All Is Not Lost

by Cryswimmer



Category: Broadchurch, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Developing Friendships, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryswimmer/pseuds/Cryswimmer
Summary: Rose Tyler had a happy marriage for many years, but a human Doctor was never meant to hold a Time Lord Consciousness.  After losing the love of her life, Rose moves to the seaside village of Broadchurch to work through her grief (and get away from her Mum).  Alec Hardy has never been terribly sociable, and raising an emotional teenage daughter is nearly enough to make him insane.  Will a grieving widow and a reticent DI find enough common ground to help one another heal?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is a Doctor Who/Broadchurch crossover, I feel I have a duty to explain that the Doctor will not be appearing. The story is about Rose – post Journey's End – and Alec Hardy. There will be no magic fob watch or TARDIS driven rescue. This is simply the story of two very damaged people who have to learn to live again. This story assumes a knowledge of Rose through Series 4, and a knowledge of Broadchurch through Series 3.
> 
> By explanation, of all the JE fix-it fics that I have read, it was Behind Closed Doors, by ZephyrHawk, which touched my heart the most deeply. For that reason, I have based my Rose on some of the events of that story. I will not copy the story, and I change a number of details regarding the “illness”, but her logic about the Doctor just made sense. If you haven't read it, I strongly encourage you to do so... it is phenomenal. But if you don't wish to, then you certainly don't have to. I didn't use her Rose... I made my own using some of the background ideas she introduced combined with my own (sad) medical knowledge.
> 
> Finally, this story is not a quick and easy fix. Rose has not recovered from losing the Doctor, and Alec is still deeply damaged and overall antisocial. He is simply the most unhappy character that I've seen in a long time, and I couldn't help but fall just a little bit in love. This story is not “love at first sight,” as much as I wish it was. This is two people who are hurting, and find one another, and the story will go where it chooses. Personally, I am in a rather dark place in my life, so the story is very likely to reflect this. Dark themes apply...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose Tyler's first night in her new home in Broadchurch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing was done for grammar on 12/21/17 from here through Chapter 5 because I caught errors on a re-read and it just irritated me!

Rose Tyler stepped from the rental car and closed its door behind her. Her bags were in the boot, and she could get them soon enough. For now it was enough to stare at the small but bright house that she had purchased using the money from selling her London flat. Their flat. Their home.

No. She wasn't ready to think about it.

She had told her parents that she needed to go – to get away – and mercifully Pete had understood. When he had asked where she wanted to go, her first choice had been Norway. That was how she felt, after all. Alone and lonely, as she had all that time ago. She had wanted to go back, and maybe start over, and if she was very lucky she might get it right this time. Unfortunately, her mother had pitched a fit over her leaving the country, and so they had struck a compromise with the seaside village of Broadchurch. Only three hours from London, but far enough away that her mother wouldn't walk through her door daily and she wouldn't trip over friends at Tesco. 

Looking around, Rose knew she had been right. Just being able to look at the sky without the distraction of Zeppelins would allow her to feel more normal. She could not go back to her universe, nor could she pretend the last years hadn't happened. Truly, she wasn't even sure she wanted to. She didn't want to forget – not really – but she didn't want to be constantly reminded. She didn't want to go to work every day and look away from eyes who pitied her. She didn't want to see him in every doorway at work – where he had constantly popped up to surprise her, out of the corner of her eye on every street – walking backwards and smiling, and his smell... God, she could smell him all over their flat. Every time she had opened the door, she had expected him to be there.

And he never would be again.

A deep breath, held five seconds, and Rose had the tears at bay once more. The calming strategy had served her well over the last weeks. The tears were always there – just lurking – and it didn't take much for them to win. She walked up the short sidewalk towards the steps, her casual dress pants and coordinated silk blouse swishing softly in the silence of the country setting. There were no cars going by, no buzz of discussion in the background, no yells and catcalls as she had come to expect when she was outside. The only sound was the call of gulls over the water. It was... peaceful. Just the place, she hoped, to find peace.

The second key on her ring unlocked the door, and she noted that there wasn't even a squeak as it swung open. The scent of fresh paint assaulted her, combined with wood polish and the astringent smell of cleaning solvent. After purchasing the house through an agent, she had reluctantly allowed Pete to have it cleaned and prepped. Apparently, the home had belonged to a young family who had decided to move to London. She wasn't keen on all the details, but the bottom line was that it had been within her limited budget and the photos had been lovely.

The house was even more appealing in person. The banister was polished to a golden brown, and it led up a staircase that seemed full of promise. She walked up the stairs and let her fingers trail along the silky wood, smiling gently. Yes, she could live here. At the top of the stairs she wandered the hallway, looking into a room which was unfurnished, and yet held the potential for being a wonderful little office. Pete had told her that she could remain with Torchwood as a consultant, and this space would be perfect if she went that route. Honestly she hadn't decided; she had made very few long-term decisions. 

The next room was a nicely sized loo. There was no bathtub – only a shower – but she could work with that. She knew there was a full-sized tub downstairs. Her next room, on the other side of the stairway, was the master bedroom. Inside she found a beautiful oak furniture set that she knew her mother must have had sent. The king-sized bed was made with a fluffy, royal blue duvet. She smiled softly as she recognized the set from the guest room her mother kept for her; Jackie must have had the furniture and linens sent ahead as well. Opening the top drawer of the dresser, she found underpants and socks. Leave it to her mother, she thought. Rose might have been upset about the “meddling”, except that this meant she wouldn't have to do her unpacking and organizing before she got some rest. Apparently fatigue increased her tolerance for meddling. She would have to be sure to guard that fact from her mother.

A glance into the en suite showed toilet paper in place, a toothbrush hanging from a holder, and her favorite brands of shower gel and shampoo sitting on the edge of the small shower stall. Yes, it made life easier.

Downstairs once more, Rose found similar “meddling” in the kitchen. The refrigerator was stocked with the basics – milk, eggs, and butter – and the cabinets contained bread, tea, and a selection of jams. As toast and jam was the primary food she had been living on, she knew it would get her through the night. Rose took the shiny new kettle off the stove and filled it with water, then set it to heat while she walked back out to the car and took a medium suitcase, a laptop case, and her purse from the boot. She made sure everything was locked up tight before going back into the house. Next, she checked the first-floor doors and windows to ensure that they were locked and secure. By the time she had run her suitcase and purse upstairs, the kettle was whistling and she checked cabinets until she found the teapot. Leave it to her mother, she thought with another gentle smile. As long as there was tea, the world would keep spinning.

Rose set the tea to steep while she spread butter and jam on a slice of bread she was too tired to toast. She nibbled at it, letting her mind go blank until her tea was strong enough. She sipped the brew, ate her bread, and then tidied up after herself. She did all this in the quiet of her new house. Such quiet. Oppressive quiet. When had peace turned to oppression? 

When she could stand it no longer, she slipped her mobile from her pocket and sent a quick text to her mother. She was here, she was safe, and she was tired. She would call in the morning. Hoping that would hold her mother off – and with Pete's guidance it likely would – she then held the button on her phone until Siri offered assistance.

“Play Nickelback,” she said softly.

Her phone knew her so well, and began to blare her favorite album. American alternative music was a guilty pleasure she had picked up while traveling with her first Doctor. He had spent hours under the console with the TARDIS blaring pounding drumbeats, energetic guitar riffs, and pulsing bass while American singers screamed about love, loss, sex, and fighting. At first it had been annoying. Gradually it had become familiar. Now, it was simply comforting to be able to block out the silence.

Rose changed into her nightgown – one of her husband's old vests – then went into the loo to brush her teeth and remove her makeup. After using the facilities, she pulled back the TARDIS blue duvet and matching soft sheets. She climbed between the sheets, resting her head on one pillow and pulling the other pillow into her chest, resting a knee on it, and trying to pretend that it was more than a pillow. She didn't bother with turning off the light, and for a long while she didn't close her eyes. The music from her phone continued to play, and she didn't bother to turn it off, either. Sleep would come when – if – it chose. There was nothing she could do about it either way.

* ~ * ~ *

Because Rose had left the lights on, the sun filtering through the curtains didn't wake her. She slept well into the late morning, even though she had lain down rather early. Some nights were like that. Other nights, she didn't sleep at all. She had learned to take the sleep when it came and to be grateful. She still felt tired most of the time, whether she had slept an hour or ten, but her thinking seemed clearer when she'd had more than six hours.

She sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes before standing, bracing herself for the day to come. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine her husband had just gone in early to work, and left her to sleep late. She could imagine it, but she couldn't make it so. Her eyes burned and a knot formed in her throat. Rose wondered just how long it would take before every other thought – every single day – was no longer of what she had lost. 

Deep breath... five seconds... breathe out. Again. Better.

Rose put herself on autopilot to wash her face and brush her teeth, then straightened her bed before walking downstairs. She placed two slices of wheat bread in the toaster on the counter, and dug out butter and jam. While waiting on the toast, she put fresh water in the kettle and measured out tea. She enjoyed her breakfast on the window seat in the sitting room, cross-legged with a man's vest tucked up beneath her. Thankfully the rest of her furniture would arrive in a few days, but she thought she just might enjoy the window seat on quiet mornings.

Outside her window, she could see other houses made very similar to her own. She wasn't able to see the water from her windows – either front or back – but she should be able to walk to the beach. She wasn't near the tourist area, thankfully, but there was sand and sea so it would do. Mostly, she just wanted the quiet.

The question, she then decided, was what to do with herself until the lorry arrived with her things in a few days. Pete had insisted that she take some time off before beginning her consultant position – as though she hadn’t already been away from Torchwood for the last ten months – and to her that meant entirely too much time to think. Thinking meant remembering, and remembering hurt.

Deep breath... five seconds... breathe out.

Deciding to be pro-active, and in an attempt to distract herself, she went back upstairs to charge her mobile and set music to playing once more. This time she went with Daughtry – a bit softer, but still enough drums and guitar to calm nerves and dull thought. She took her shower and dressed in jeans and a jumper, then she grabbed her purse and slung the strap over her head, crossing it over her body. She supposed some habits from living in the city never wore off. She locked up and started walking, hoping to learn a little more about her surroundings.

She walked over cobblestones and pebbles as she followed the sound of the gulls towards the water. Houses around her were quiet, with their occupants either inside or off at work or school. She hadn't put on a watch, and she'd left her mobile on the charge, but the sun in the sky told her that it was nearly noon. As she left the housing area, she walked a very short path of grass and sand before reaching the beach itself. The water was between tides – quiet – and she settled herself in the sand to watch the gulls attack whatever they could find in the water. 

Small fishing vessels were moving in the harbor, distant from the shore and yet close enough to make out the men as they tossed nets and... did whatever they did on deck. She knew little about fishing. They were too far away to hear voices, but she enjoyed watching the movement. When she tired of sitting, she brushed off her jeans and walked back toward the village.

Unlike the busy rush of London, the awakening streets did not have an isolated, lonely feel. Children walked down the sidewalks in their uniforms, bags over shoulders and smiles on faces. School must have let out for the day. Young voices called out and laughter rang through the streets. Although Rose saw this through what seemed to be a pane of thick glass, she could appreciate the scene even as she couldn't really feel it. A few children waved to her, and she forced herself to wave back.

Just as she reached her own walk, she was approached by a young woman herding a small girl back towards her own yard. “Hey!” the woman yelled, grabbing what appeared to be her daughter and rerouting her from the street yet again. “You must be the new neighbor.” The woman extended a hand, “Beth Latimer,” she said brightly. “And this is my Lizzie.”

“Rose,” she tried to answer, but her throat creaked more than spoke. Disuse, she realized. After clearing it, she tried again. “Rose Tyler. Just moved from London.”

Beth gave a wide eyed appraisal. “You're a long way from the city,” she commented.

Rose shrugged. “Only about three hours,” she replied. “Close enough to visit the family when I want, but not keep Mum in my back pocket.”

“Quite right,” Beth replied, causing Rose to stiffen slightly. Beth didn't seem to notice. “So, is your family coming later?”

“Just me,” Rose said softly. “No children, and my husband... passed.”

The look on Beth's face was stricken. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” she said. The young woman reached forward and placed a hand on Rose's arm. Her face was warm, and so genuine. This was a woman who had known grief, and Rose knew she could sense it in others.

“I wanted a place with space,” Rose said. “My London flat was... tiny.” Mentally she added, and sweet, and homey, and perfect for us.

“You have that,” Beth said with a grin. “I shouldn't want to clean it.”

Rose gave a half-hearted laugh. “Da took care of that before I moved in. I just have to wait on the furniture, now. Lorry is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”

Beth gave her a considering look. “Tell you what. Unless you have something arranged, I'd love you to come for tea with us. Nothing fancy, mind. It's shepherd's pie, but it's better than eating alone. It'd give us a chance to get to know each other.

Rose's first instinct was to say no. She wasn't ready to make friends; wasn't ready to talk to others or begin to explain herself. But she couldn't think of a graceful way out of it, and she didn't fancy toast for tea. She wasn't exactly hungry, but more... empty. A meal with nice people could fill the time until she had to face her bedroom again, and fill the silence that always surrounded her.

“I'd like that,” she said softly. “I'm afraid I don't have much to bring, unless you need milk or jam.”

Beth giggled at that, ducking down to snag her daughter once more as she tried to maneuver towards the street, even as she never took her eyes from Rose. “Lizzie would love that,” she said. “But just bring yourself. Some adult company is as good as a gift in my home. Just come by around half-six.”

“Thank you,” Rose told her.

Beth gave her a sly grin, finally scooping Lizzie up and resting the girl's bottom on her hip. “Thank me after we're done with ya,” she suggested.

* ~ * ~ *

Deep breath... five seconds... release. She could do this.

Rose rang the bell of the house next to hers, then waited. She heard a slight commotion through the door, a bit of shouting although she couldn't make out the words, and then a lovely blond teenager opened the door. The girl took one look at Rose and her face broke into a smile.

“New neighbor?” she asked.

“I'm Rose,” she replied.

“Come in if you're brave. Mr. Evans is having a row with Mum, so it's a bit noisy.”

“Maybe I should...” she gestured back to the door.

“Nah,” she told her, waving her to follow him. “They'll sort it. He's from down the road... third house left. Mum has him over for dinner because she says he won't eat by himself. He says she'll never cook as good as his wife. You get the picture." She looked back and gave Rose a conspiratorial wink before calling out loudly, "Hey, Mum?”

Beth's head popped out around a doorway, and she echoed her daughter's wave to come into the kitchen. “We're eating through here,” she called.

There was shuffling and a bit of shouting, movement, and a some grumbling, but finally they were all seated satisfactorily around the table. It was a happy commotion, similar to what they'd had at her Mum's house on holidays when she and the Doctor had been there, and Rose wished that she was more able to appreciate it. She was introduced to Mr. Gavin Evans, who was apparently Beth's current project. The discussion was lively as they filled her in on local gossip on her surrounding neighbors – who was in footie, who missed the dance tryout, and who had crashed the family car for the fourth time this month and still said she didn't need glasses – and it stayed safely off of private topics for most of the meal.

For her part, Rose listened and did her best to focus. Beth made it easy, drawing her into the discussion and not letting her glaze over as she so often did. Rose even managed to eat nearly half of her small serving of the pie before queasiness overtook her and she went back to sipping water. She had declined the wine, truthfully explaining that it gave her a head the morning after. She didn't mention that it also interfered with a couple of her medications.

“So, you're here on your own,” Beth's Mr. Evans mentioned. “Leave your husband?” he asked, gesturing to the ring on her left hand.

Rose noted the panic on Beth's face and reached out a hand to reassure her. “I'm widowed,” she said softly. “Just this past January.”

Before Beth could jump in and try to smooth over the gaffe, the older man reached over and placed his hand over Rose's. “Been a year for me,” he told her, his voice gruff. “Never a day when I don't miss her.”

Rose smiled brokenly and bowed her head. Deep breath, hold, release. Again. Deep breath, hold, release.

“Any children?” He asked her, but his voice remained gentle. For some reason, she didn't mind answering as she usually did.

“We tried a bit at first,” she admitted. “We lost two before I was even used to being pregnant, but then he was too ill.”

“Cancer?” Chloe asked. “Rina's dad died of cancer a few months back, even after all the surgeries and medicine. It was horrible.”

“Not cancer,” Rose corrected. “He had... it's some huge medical-sounding thing. Anyway, his brain just stopped remembering how to do things. At first he couldn't swallow, so he choked all the time. That's when we realized something was wrong. The doctors didn't know why it was happening, so at first they just fed him with a tube and he seemed to get better. He got weaker, but we figured it was the liquid diet. And then his vision started to go, and we knew it was more. Later, his body forgot how to digest food, then filter poisons out, and then... well, he finally forgot how to breathe. By then, he'd made me promise not to put him on life support. He didn't want to live... not that way.”

“Oh, Rose,” Beth said, and her eyes were brimming. “How horrible, for both of you.”

“We were married almost eight years,” Rose said softly. “Only the last one was bad. Even then, I wouldn't have traded it.” Looking at the clear pity in the faces around her, she felt compelled to assure them. “Really, I wouldn't have traded it. Not even to take away all the pain. There was so much good at first. Even after he was ill, the first year we were able to carry on normally. I mean, there were tube feeds and oxygen tanks, but that's not so bad once you're used to it. It was only later, when he was hurting so much.... that's when it was bad.”

A tear slipped down Chloe's cheek, and both Beth and her father were silent. Rose realized that she had probably said too much. It was a lot of personal information when she'd known this family only a few hours. They just made her feel comfortable, and she hadn't told anyone else beyond the grief counselors her mother had insisted on. And this family had listened, really listened, and she'd gotten carried away.

“I'm so sorry,” Rose told them. “That wasn't exactly proper dinner conversation. My mum would send me to my room for that.”

Beth smiled with such understanding that Rose felt a weight lift from her. “Anytime you need to talk, we're here to listen,” she said gently. “That's what friends are for. And I think we're going to be great friends, Rose.”

At that, Rose smiled - a genuine smile. Great friends, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've met Rose, and now it's time to meet Alec. Finding out just what life is like - at home and at work - for our favorite DI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the Kudos and comments that have popped up. Wow... someone is actually reading this! I loved both Broadchurch and Doctor Who – and watched them repeatedly – but I happen to reside in the United States. This being the case, I'm certain I will make multiple errors in British... everything. I've picked up a few of the language changes – boots instead of trunks, carparks instead of garages, pants instead of underwear, etc. – but the truth of the matter is that I try to replicate what I've heard in the show and research what I haven't to the best of my ability. THERE WILL BE ERRORS! Just saying...
> 
> On a more positive note, I finally have a concrete outline in place that will carry me through this story. If it is well received, it may be the first in a series of stories. I'm keeping this one relatively short – say, 30-40,000 words – so that I can keep it Teen rated. Future stories, as I get into heavier plot themes and possibly heavier... um... romance, are likely to rate Mature. As this story is mostly getting to know the characters, it won't require that rating.
> 
> Thanks once more for reading.

“You'll never understand anything! I wish I'd stayed with Mum.”

Alec Hardy winced as he listened to the loud slam of his daughter's door, and then closed his eyes in relief that his heart was stronger than it had once been. If not, this lovely little teenager would have already killed him.

With a deep sigh he tossed the mobile phone which had been the beginning of this particular argument onto the counter. Truly, the problem wasn't the phone. The problem was not even that she lived with the bloody phone attached to her hand. The problem, if he was honest, was that she hadn't bothered to use said phone to let him know where she was – nor answered his call when he tried to track her down – and had nearly scared the life out of him.

Honestly, if any of her friends had sent a text, she couldn't have answered it quickly enough, but when he sends one – a challenge in and of itself, as he would much rather just talk to her rather than typing on letters that were too small for his fingers – she blatantly ignored it. School had released at four, and he had been trying to reach her since seven. Now, at half-ten, she wanders into the house to tell him that she's been at a friend's house. Until half-ten? Really? It was rude, and inconsiderate, and frankly dangerous to be gone that long without letting a responsible adult know where she was. Didn't she have any clue what could have been happening to her? Didn't she have any clue what went through his mind?

And therein lay the problem, he realized. He had spent so many years protecting her from the negative aspects of his work that she hadn't the slightest inkling of where his mind went when her mobile went to voice-mail. Visions of kidnapping, murder, rape, assault, illness... it all flew through his mind in a whirlwind every time he was unable to reach her, every time he didn't know precisely where she was. She had no clue that worrying for her – his baby girl, no matter that she was sixteen years old – caused his chest to hurt worse than a heart arrhythmia ever had.

He knew his temper was short. After a day like this one, when stupidity and arrogance had greeted him at every turn, he was even more on edge. He was simply sick and tired of what human beings could do to one another. And when he finished dealing with the lowest lying and conniving creatures known to man, the last thing he had patience for was trying to locate the daughter who was supposed to have come home after school.

So if she wasn't going to use the mobile properly – to assure him that she was safe and well when he needed her to do – then she didn't need to have it attached to her hand.

Daisy had disagreed. Loudly.

With a sigh, Alec covered his face with his hands and rubbed at the scruff which was neither stubble nor yet a beard. He hated shaving, and rarely got around to it when he was on a case. Although there had been nothing pressing this week beyond petty theft, a bit of vandalism, and a wandering toddler who gave his mother a terrifying thirty minutes of hell, he still felt as though he was under the constant threat that something big was coming. He supposed it was backlash from the lengthy cases that had haunted him over the years, but he needed to work on letting go of it so that he could be an effective father.

That's what Miller told him. He told her to shut it.

Still, as he seated himself on the edge of the couch and rubbed at tired eyes and throbbing temples, he realized that angering his daughter was probably not the best way to get what he wanted. She wasn't like a criminal, where he could squeeze the noose tighter and tighter until the guilty hung himself. She was a child – a very well protected child – who didn't even know that she wasn't an adult. She was learning and growing and - God help him – beginning to become really interested in boys. While there was a part of him which was grateful she had overcome the “picture passing incident” and really make friends, another part of him worried that this would lead her to want more freedom. Freedom could be a dangerous thing.

As his headache calmed and his heart rate went back to normal, he decided it was time to make peace. The one rule they'd had when she moved in was that they wouldn't go to bed angry. He had made her promise that she would talk to him before she went to sleep, no matter how mad she was. Too many teenagers sneaked out in the night just because of a simple misunderstanding. He didn't want to take that risk.

He made a quick pass into the kitchen to find a small carton of ice cream for her – somewhere between a bribe and a peace offering – and poured himself a cup of cold tea from the pot he had made while waiting for her to come home. Thirty seconds in the microwave, and he added a splash of milk before carrying both ice cream and tea to her room. 

He knocked with his elbow because both hands were full. “Daisy?” he called. No answer. “Daisy... truce?”

He heard footsteps before the door swung open a few inches. He shouldered it the rest of the way open and followed her to her bed. She had changed into her pajamas – flannel with little teddy bears, which made her look about three – and was sitting cross-legged with a pillow on her lap as she waited. He eased himself down on the edge and passed her the ice cream before taking a sip of lukewarm tea.

Her face was tear streaked, and it took everything he had in him not to run screaming. He hated tears. He could be dispassionate on the job – with strangers, or even with coworkers – but not with his baby. “I'm not taking the phone,” he finally relented reluctantly. “I was making a point, and I was... angry.”

“I'm sorry I didn't call back,” Daisy admitted with a hiccup. “We were studying at the library, so I shut off the ringer. A few of us were still working on the last few problems when it closed, so we went to.... a friend’s house. I didn't think about turning it back on. I swear.”

“Whose house were you at?” he asked.

“Not someone you know,” she admitted.

“Are you being deliberately evasive, or are you not understanding the question?”

She gave a sigh that sounded a bit too much like one of his own. “Evasive,” she admitted. “His name is Robert, and you don't know him.”

“So, you went to this Robert's house – Robert who I don't know, and a house I don't know how to find – and didn't bother to let me know that you were okay.” He shook his head, and tried very hard not to raise his voice. Calm, he told himself. If he stayed calm, then she was more likely to quit the bloody crying. “Was anyone else at Robert's house?”

“His mom was there. Bekka and Lucy went, too. We were working on World Geography, and Robert has a big-screen set up from his laptop. We researched the last couple of problems in the study guide, then we worked together to come up with mnemonics to remember the cities and regions for each country. Big test coming up next week, and it's more fun coming up with the memory tricks together.”

“Okay. It sounds like a perfectly good reason to study with friends. It doesn't sound like a good reason to scare me half to death.”

“I'm not a baby,” she told him, with the long-suffering sigh of a teenager.

“I'm not suggesting you are.” He rubbed his eyes again, his face, and settled his fingers at his temples to rub. Maybe if he just told her why he worried. Maybe he could do it without scaring her too badly. “Daisy, every day when I go to work, I see everything that can go wrong for good people. I trust you more than I trust anyone else in this world, but I don't trust other people around you. It's my job to keep you safe, and I can't do that if I can't find you. And I can't do my job – can't help other people – if my mind is busy worrying about you. I need for you to meet me half way, and let me know where you are. I think it's a reasonable request.”

Daisy looked at him for a long moment, then asked, “Where's my phone.”

“On the counter in the living room.”

She lay down her ice cream and went to get the phone. Once she had done so, she reached into his front pocket and removed his own. “This is a program called FindFriends,” she explained. “I'm tuning it on for both our phones, and we friend each other. I invite... and you accept, like this. I'm here,” she said, indicating a small avatar on his screen with her picture on it. “And this is you. So, if you don't know where I am, you just press my picture. I've accepted you as a friend, so you'll be able to.... there,” she said, indicating where her address had popped up on a map. “If I forget, then you can look me up. It'll tell me where you are, too. So if you aren't answering your phone, I can tell if you're at the courthouse or the station, or whatever.”

“You're giving me permission to spy on you?” he asked, but there was a hint of humor in his voice.

“Something like that,” she admitted. “I don't want you to worry; it’s not good for you. And I don't forget because I'm disrespectful, either. I'm just busy, and I have a lot on my mind. And I'm not used to having to check in, because Mum didn’t make it an issue. She had her own things to do. I know you won’t let that happen, but I get how you can worry.”

“That's all it is,” he said softly. “I worry.”

She gave him a shy smile, so much like she had when she'd been the little girl who climbed on his lap and held onto his neck so tight.

“And,” she said with a grin. “The next time you go on a date, I'll know where you're meeting her.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Okay, so she wasn't the right one. You can't give up after one try.

“No,” he said again. “It was.... excruciating. I don't know which of us was more embarrassed. I'm not going through that again.”

“So, you'll die old and alone?” she asked. It was the very argument which had led him to try the dating site in the first place.

“Yes,” he said simply. “But I'll do it with my honor intact.”

* ~ * ~ *

“Miller!” he yelled. “You have to be kidding me!”

He saw Ellie roll her eyes as she finished filling her tea cup and turned to him. “Of course I am,” she told him, deadpan. “Only, what am I kidding about this time?”

“An heiress? We're down two officers, we can't pin down the brats who are walking off with everything not nailed down in private homes, and now I have to babysit an heiress?

“Oh,” she acknowledged with a nod. “The Tyler woman. Yeah, and that one came all the way from MPS. I think she works for some high-security legal group in London. The letter didn't have many details.”

“I can see that for myself, thanks,” he muttered. He turned and walked back into his office, not bothering to gesture for her to follow.

“Maybe she won't be any trouble,” Ellie offered, taking the chair in front of his desk and setting her tea on his desk. “The address is near the seaside. It's practically next to Beth Latimer.

Alec took a seat himself, and looked over the letter. “It is next to Beth Latimer. It's the old Bennidict place.” He furrowed his brow before adding, “Bit of a fall-down, you know. You'd think an heiress could do better.”

“They've had workman in there,” she told him. “I saw the trucks when I went round for dinner last week. I didn't know it'd been sold. I do know the Bennidicts just wanted out of there quickly. Basil got a right good job in London, and they needed to sell to afford a flat.”

“One woman in a big house like that,” he muttered. “Doesn't sound right. Something tells me there's a lot more not in this request than is in it. What do you know about her?”

“Let's find out,” Ellie suggested. She pulled out her mobile and hit a few buttons, typing in “Rose Tyler” to the search engine. Several million references appeared. “Jesus,” she muttered. “More like a celebrity than an heiress.”

Alec reached over and typed in the same search to his own computer. “Thirty-one year old daughter of Peter Tyler – Vitex money – and Jacqueline Tyler. Married in 2010 to Dr. Johnathan Smyth... no... widowed last January, after an extended illness.”

“How sad,” Ellie commiserated. “No wonder she's left London. How horrible for her.”

“No job that I can find,” he muttered. “Private schools, so no A-levels listed. Gorgeous, though. She probably models.

Ellie looked up at him with a grin. “Like looking at the models, do you?”

“Daisy's damn magazines lying about,” he muttered. “Bunch of anorexics if you ask me.”

“This from you?” she said with raised brows, eyeing him up and down with deliberate intent.

“High metabolism,” he grumbled.

“And you won't eat anything with fat or cholesterol,” she added.

“Heart condition,” he reminded her, placing his right hand over the pacemaker high on his left chest.

“Oh, don't give me that,” she told him. “You just want to be better than the rest of us.”

“Shut it,” he told her, but there was no heat in it. He spent a few more minutes scrolling and clicking, reading and compartmentalizing the information as he did so. Across the desk from him, he could see Ellie doing the same.

“There aren't any scandals I can see,” she finally said. “No drugs or arrests, and not one to party. The paparazzi follow her a bit, but it's mostly for what she's wearing. God, they were awful when her husband was ill; camped out at the hospital.”

“Death brings the vultures,” he agreed. “Well, I don't see anything overt here to worry us. Go ahead and run her record, prints if they're available.”

“Do we have just cause for that? She asked.

Alec gave a shrug. “They brought it up, Miller. If I'm going to babysit, I'm damn sure going to know who I'm watching.”

She nodded her agreement and headed out of his office, reading the information on her phone as she went. A standard background check wouldn't take very long, assuming there wasn't something suspicious along the way.

Alec watched her go, and then reached across the desk to take her tea. He winced at the lukewarm brew, but beggars couldn't be choosers. There was something he didn't like about web search he had run. While there were hundreds of pictures of the beautiful woman in images, he didn't see a single one of her as a child or a teen. Peter Tyler had been in the public eye for more than twenty years, and yet Alec could find nothing on his daughter until 2010. He knew that celebrities tended to protect their children from the paparazzi – and having his own daughter, he could even agree with it – but he also knew that such shielding was rarely successful. Distance photos always managed to slip through the cracks, and appear in publications both online and in print. But Alec could find no such evidence that young Rose Tyler had been caught on film.

And that was another thing. Rose Tyler. She had been married for.... it looked like seven or eight years. Yet she'd kept the name Tyler. If she was so eager to shed the celebrity associated with her father, why would she have made that choice? Her husband was another question. As Alec scanned pictures – all at a bit of a distance, oddly – he sensed something familiar in the man. Apparently they had indeed scorned the public eye. It gave him a bit of grudging respect for the couple. They had done all they could to keep their lives private. It wasn't the sign of a trouble-maker.

Well, so long as she didn't come back with a criminal record that was so blatant it couldn't be hidden or manipulated – and that was likely given that the press hadn't got wind of anything – then this was likely the paranoid request of an overprotective father who worried about his daughter being out of his sight. Granted, sending the directive down from the Metropolitan Police was throwing around unnecessary weight, but he could understand worrying about your daughter. God knew he worried enough about his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Rose and Alec meet... but it's not under the best of circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, we have those chapters that just don't want to be written. Oh, I started with a great vision of what I wanted, and it just... didn't get there. This wound up feeling rather "blah" to me. Perhaps later I'll go back and revisit it. In any case, it gets the job done. Also, it gets me to a place where I can get on with the parts of the story I really wanted to dig into.

Rose eased herself down into the sand, enjoying the show of waves on rock that was before her. It was early evening, and she had finally finished unpacking her last box and putting everything away. She hadn't had much shipped, not wanting her new home to resemble the London flat, but it had been enough to take some work getting it straight. She was rewarding herself for a job completed by letting herself ignore the world. No mobile, no television, and not even a book. It was just her, watching the tide roar in. The sky was a thousand colors, and there wasn't a cloud to block her vision. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, then rested her chin on her knees. Yes, it was a beautiful show.

The last ten days had been alternating sessions of unpacking boxes, putting away possessions, and escaping into a book when she could take reality no longer. Currently, she was in the middle of a murder-mystery that was keeping her engaged, but not making it so that she couldn't put the book down. It was what she considered a happy medium.

She found it ironic that she – a girl who had never bothered with A levels – would prefer reading to most other escapes in this world. She had hated reading in school, but when she had begun traveling with the Doctor – her first Doctor – she had learned to read for pleasure. The two of them had spent hours in the TARDIS library, going through what felt like hundreds of books. It hadn't been that many of course; she hadn't had him that long. But she had enjoyed reading fictional accounts of time periods, and then visiting those times to see how they compared with reality. 

Her next Doctor hadn't slowed down as much for reading, but she still slipped it in when he was doing extensive repairs. She would sit next to him on the grating, passing him tools when he asked, and tuning out much of his mumbling chatter while she read. He hadn't been talking to her, really. He had just been talking. He hadn't ever seemed to stop.

Her human Doctor had loved to read. He had read her poetry, sitting on the couch with her lying next to him, head in his lap. He had read her classic stories, adding in his own memories of visiting the times and places featured in the books. It had been a substitution of sorts for taking her to those times and places. He had known she loved to travel, so when they weren't able to do it so person, he helped her do so in her mind. She had loved it almost as much as the physical trips.

But tonight she hadn't felt like reading. She had felt... off. She was a little bit sad, and a little bit happy, and entirely unsettled. She had wanted to sooth herself, and so here she was. Unfortunately, as the sky became darker, it was no longer enough.

She stood and walked along the clear beach in the light of the full moon. The stars seemed so bright – so close – that she wanted to touch them. She missed so much the days when she could have done. So she walked, and she wished, and after a long while she came to a path that led up to the top of a cliff. It was bright enough to be able to see, so she carefully followed it. She scrambled a few times as she moved towards the peak of the cliff, but she kept climbing. 

It was a long while before she ran out of path, and once she'd done so she turned and was shocked to see how high she had climbed. The entire ocean seemed reflected before her, with the moon high above and yet shining off the water below as well. The scene was surreal. She sat on her bottom and scooted forward until her legs were hanging over the edge of the cliff. She wondered, if she stared long enough, could she convince herself that she was sitting on the edge of the TARDIS entrance, protected by a bubble of space while the universe rushed by around her? She liked the feeling. It was... familiar. So she decided to stay.

*~*~*

The sun was just rising, the stars and moon having long moved from her line of vision, when Rose heard a noise behind her. It was fairly distant, and she didn't feel threatened by it. So she stayed on her seat at the edge of the world, looking out at the water. With the sun behind her, the cliff she sat on cast a long shadow over the beach and well into the water. 

“It's a lovely morning.”

The voice behind her was deep, and very heavily Scottish. The brogue was so thick she had to concentrate to make out his words. “It is,” she answered.

“So, are you visiting us, then?” the voice asked her. Although the words were casual, something in the tone was not.

“No,” she told him. “Bought a house up from the beach.”

“A house is good,” he commented, and his voice was closer. “So then you're planning on staying?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I like it here.”

“Well, that being the case, would you mind moving back from the edge of the cliff?” he asked, and that not-casual edge was even more pronounced in his voice.

She considered turning around to look at him, but she simply couldn't take her eyes from the changing colors of the sky. “Why?”

“To begin with, the station has had three calls that we have a potential jumper,” he explained. “You're making several people nervous.”

“I'm just sitting here,” she remarked shortly, irritated that anyone would bother to watch her, much less call the police. She supposed that meant that the voice belonged to a policeman as well. Lovely. It was just the introduction she wanted to make for herself to the local law enforcement.

“True,” he admitted. “But you're sitting on a site that's known for multiple suicides. The cliff looks stable, but it's never as solid as we think. It would make a lot of people more comfortable if you'd move back onto solid ground for your sight-seeing, and then I could go have a cuppa tea.”

“I would never kill myself,” she told him honestly. “I couldn't do that to my family. I may have thought of it – even considered it – but leaving the people who love you should never be a choice.”

There was silence for a moment following her statement, and then, “Glad to hear it.” The voice was directly behind her now, surprisingly gentle in its tone, and she saw a hand move slowly into her peripheral vision on her right side. She finally smiled at the misunderstanding, and she reached up for his hand. She had been sitting long enough that her arse was numb, and a hand up was preferable to scooting back from the edge in a reversal of how she had scooted onto the cliff edge.

As soon as her hand was in his, she felt his arm tense. His grip was firm – very firm – as he steadied her while standing and then took her other arm as well for good measure. With the sun behind him, she couldn't make out features, but he was tall and felt almost familiar as he stood before her.

“I'm sorry I worried you,” she told him. “Or anyone. I didn't realize just sitting here would upset anyone.”

“It's precautionary,” he explained. “As I told you, there have been suicides from this cliff. There have been a few accidents as well.”

As he moved her away from the cliff, slow and solid steps, he turned her slightly so that she could see his face. His face. Oh, dear God, his face.

“Doctor?” she asked, her voice a whisper, her knees going weak.

His hand left hers as he slid his arm around her and eased her down to the ground. His face was pale where it wasn't covered in beard stubble. “You need a doctor?” he asked, reacting quickly to the change in her voice. Once she was on the ground, he reached for his mobile.

“Doctor?” she whispered again. It wasn't his voice – not at all – and she'd heard him with a Scottish brogue when they'd met Queen Victoria. This was thicker, and faster, and... different.

“It's Hardy. I need an ambulance at the end of South Street,” he said quickly. “Top of the cliff.”

She shook her head. His words were mostly a blur, but she didn't think she was ill. Going crazy, possibly, but not ill. “I'm okay,” she tried to say, but her voice made very little sound. She tried again. “I'm okay,” she said with a bit more strength. “I'm always okay,” she added with a mutter.

“Hold that for a moment,” he said into the mobile, then he addressed her. “What happened.”

“I sat too long,” she lied. “Just got a bit dizzy. My blood sugar is probably low. I'll eat something and be just fine.”

He gave her an appraising look, so much like her husband had when he was desperately trying to establish a telepathic link he was no longer capable of. “You're sure?” he asked. He didn't look convinced.

She dredged up a smile, when it was the last thing she was feeling. “I'm sure,” she assured him.

“Cancel that,” he finally said into the mobile. He didn't say anything more before punching the screen with a finger and sliding the phone back into his pocket. “You're just hungry?” he asked.

“Tired and hungry,” she agreed. And shocked, and confused, and not entirely certain she was sane. But she wasn't ill. At least she didn't think she was ill. She supposed a psychotic break wasn't out of the question...

“Did you walk or drive?” he asked her.

She was momentarily confused, and then slightly suspicious. He had said the station was called, but he had never actually stated that he was a police officer, had he? It was just how he spoke, with that quiet authority she was used to hearing in law officials. Nonetheless, she didn't feel that giving out her personal information to a man who found her on the cliff – the man who was now kneeling in the grass and cradling her quite gently – was her best course of action.

He gave her another one of the looks that clearly indicated he would rather read her mind than try to get her to talk to him, and then eased her up so that she was supporting herself. She pulled her legs up, resting her chin on her knees as she had done the evening before. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out identification. “To the cliff,” he clarified. “Did you walk here, or drive? I’m D.I. Alec Hardy,” he told her carefully. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you psychic?” she asked him honestly. She'd known plenty of empaths, but few telepaths over the years.

He grinned at that. “Your face is... expressive. Doesn't tell me your name, though. You'll have to do that yourself.”

She took a deep breath, then let it out. “Rose Tyler,” she told him. “And I'm usually harder to read… Normally,” she told him. She closed her eyes and took a moment to gather herself. For his part, D.I. Hardy stayed on one knee with a hand on her shoulder, as though he expected her to pass out at any moment. She supposed that she had given that impression.

After a long moment, he slid his hand from her shoulder to her hand, and stood next to her. She let him pull her up, tug her a few steps from the edge of the cliff, then rapidly took her hand back. The way he was looking at her was disconcerting.

“When did you last eat?” he asked softly.

“I had lunch,” she answered. Then I went for a walk, and wound up here... Well, I started out on the beach, and watched the tide come in. Then I felt like walking, and came up here. The sky was just so... perfect. It was peaceful, so I stayed.”

“Well, if you're going to go sight-seeing, I'd recommend paying a bit more attention to your surroundings. For now, how about I just run you home.”

She looked around, and truthfully she had no idea which way to walk to get home. She was sure she could retrace it, but that would require going back down the path to the beach, and she wasn't feeling that stable.

“Thank you,” she told him. “I'd like that.”

“You’re on Meadway?” he asked. “By the Lattimer house?”

“The other side of West Cliff,” she agreed. “How did you know that?”

He gave her a small smile, or what might have been a smile, and she had a feeling that didn't happen often. “Small town,” he confided in a whisper. “Not so many new residents. It pays to keep track.”

“Right,” she told him, blushing slightly. “Detective. Yeah.”

“Tell you what,” he said, turning and glancing at her so that she would follow, “Let me run you up to JB's. My treat. It's a coffee house, but they've a bit of a breakfast menu. I'd feel better about dropping you home if you had some food in you.”

No. She couldn't do that. Could she?

The look on her face must have been something to see, because he began to backpedal. “It's not a condition of the ride,” he assured her. “I'd just feel safer if you had some food in you. You went white on me back there.”

“Yeah,” she muttered as they approached his car. She decided on honesty, although she couldn't have said why. “Well, you also look a bit like someone I know... knew. S’bit like seeing a ghost.”

He nodded as they approached his can, then he opened the passenger side door and waited until she was seated. Then he got in and drove the short distance inland to the coffee shop. It wasn't a long drive, and traffic hadn't yet set in, so it surprised her when he started talking. “Why'd you choose Broadchurch?” he asked. “To live, I mean. Bit out of the way, I'd think.”

“That's the appeal,” she remarked. “It's quiet, and everyone seems to leave one another alone. But it's friendly, too. The day I moved in my next door neighbor was inviting me for dinner and offering to show me around. That never would have happened in London.”

“Ah, who'd that be? Who invited you over, I mean.”

“Beth Latimer,” Rose told him. “She was just so nice.”

“Beth is nice,” he agreed. “The whole family, for that matter.”

“So, that's why,“ she told him in a matter of fact voice. “I wanted out of London and all its insanity, and it's so gorgeous here. And it's peaceful.”

“Usually,” he agreed. Pulling up in front of the coffee shop, he again showed old-world manners by getting out and opening her door for her, then reaching for her hand. She was more prepared this time, as her hand slid into his, and she managed not to flinch.

They both ordered tea once they were seated, and he insisted on a bowl of oatmeal for himself and a blueberry scone for her. Although she hadn't planned to eat, she found him to be a right nag about it. She finally got disgusted with, “Just try it,” and “One bite,” and began to nibble on the scone.

It was amazing. She hadn't had an appetite in months – years, if she was honest with herself – and food had simply become necessary fuel to keep going. But this actually tasted good, and she found herself devouring it in record time. It was embarrassing. “Guess I was hungrier than I thought,” she told him, ducking her head. She decided to try asking about him. “So, how long have you been here? I know the accent isn't local.”

“No,” he admitted. “Born in Scotland. Raised there as well. I've been in Broadchurch... oh... three years, in a way. I left a bit to take care of my daughter, then I brought her back here. I didn't want to raise her in the city. Here, the crime-level is fairly low, and she's fairly safe.”

“What's her name? Your daughter.”

“Daisy. Pretty as a flower.” He smiled at her – what passed for a smile – and it was nothing like her Doctor's smile. “God, please don't ever tell her I said that. Half the time she doesn't want to claim me as it is.” The smile, such as it was, faded away. It occurred to her that this man had his own issues, and it was unfair to burden him with hers.

And as they sat there, she had a chance to honestly look at him while they were eating. It wasn't only the smile that was different. He had the same facial structure, but his eyes looked even older than her Doctor's, whether human or Time Lord. Wrinkles surrounded those eyes, hiding some of the freckles she had always loved. His voice was so heavily accented, and he spoke so quickly, that she had to concentrate to follow him at times. And the beard... even when John had been at his sickest, she had shaved him every morning. Bath, and shave, and clean jim jams always made him feel better. She had fought more than one nurse over her insistence, but she felt a wife should be able to do something for her husband. It wasn't much, but it was something. She let the nurses sort out their medications and therapies, but his morning routine was hers.

“Are you okay?” the detective asked. Judging from the look on his face, he had asked more than once.

She took a deep breath, and noted the cold and wet on her right cheek. Wiping away the tears, she nodded. “I'm more tired than I thought,” she admitted. “But this has been really nice.”

“I'll take you home,” he told her, placing his napkin on the table and taking out his wallet. He placed a few bills on the table and stood up. When she didn't immediately follow – she was still lost in her past – he reached out his hand. Something in that action jolted her, and she stood up while carefully not taking his hand. She just couldn't do it. Not with John so fresh in her mind. It wasn't being unfaithful – she knew that – but it just seemed so wrong.

She followed him back to his car, and they were silent as he drove her home. She was grateful; she wasn't up to talking. It had been a while since the memories had washed over her this completely. Perhaps she was more tired than she thought. She tried to breathe, and realized that she didn’t remember how.

When he pulled up in front of her house without directions, she was slightly startled. “You really did know where I live.”

He pointed to the house next door. “Beth Latimer's place,” he told her. “You said you were next door.”

“You listened,” she marveled.

“Occupational hazard,” he remarked as he scratched at the edge of his beard. “Did you lock up tight before you left?”

She nodded, and pulled a chain from beneath her t-shirt. On the necklace, there were two keys. It was a habit she had kept for well over a decade. She might lose her car keys, but she'd never be locked out of her house.

He gave her another of those half-smiles. “Good enough.”

“Thank you for the ride. And thanks for breakfast, too.” She thought a moment. “And, I suppose thank you for the rescue. I know I didn't need it, but you didn't know that. I appreciate it.”

“Thank me by doing your sight-seeing a few feet back from the edge,” he told her solemnly. “Accidents happen.”

Those last two words told her more than she wanted to know about his profession. She gave him a nod, another brief “thank you,” and then got out of the car. She was unaccountably grateful when he didn't follow. She pulled the chain over her head, unlocked her front door, and went through. She was putting the necklace back in place before she had the front door closed or locked.

Once the house was secure, she walked up the steps. Each one seemed to require more effort than the last, and yet her insides felt wound up by meeting Detective Hardy and remembering John. Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to calm herself, she went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and took one of the tiny blue pills that she saved as a last resort. She knew she should eat something to go along with it, but she didn’t have the strength to go back downstairs. Instead, she lay down on top of her covers and closed her eyes. Moments later, sleep claimed her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A real first date... the reveal... and the first crisis in our story. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some chapters are just plain hard... chapter 3 was like that. It simply didn't go where I wanted, and it didn't feel... right. Other chapters are like this one. I turned the characters loose and just tried to keep up with them. These are the fun ones to write! I hope it's as much fun to read.
> 
> So many thanks for the kind words and kudos (and heck, just for the views) which make me feel like this story has a purpose beyond my own personal stress-relief. Your acknowledgement means more than words can say.

Chapter 4

“I take it she didn't jump,” Ellie commented as he walked through the door to his office.

“Why are you in my office?” he asked her.

“Because I want to know why you both called and canceled an ambulance in less than a minute.”

Alec sighed as he sat down and gave a moderate glare to his co-worker. He supposed after three years he should call her a friend as well, but he'd learned that lesson to the bone. He would never – never – have another relationship at work... not even if that relationship was friendship. “She was a bit light-headed when she stood up. I thought it might be something more, so I called for assistance. She explained, so I canceled it. Simple. Now go bother somebody else.”

“Fine,” she muttered, her voice going up half an octave. “So, I'm guessing she's not a jumper, then?”

“She was a sight-seer,” he told her. 

“Oliver will hate to hear that,” Ellie said calmly.

“Oliver can...” He looked up and saw that she was serious. “Oh, God, no. I thought he'd decided that Broadchurch was done with headlines big enough for him.”

“That was until the tabloid sensation Rose Tyler moved in. Apparently, Auntie is letting him borrow a desk until the ratings run their course. Celebrities don’t have the same level of protection she gives our other citizens.”

“Shit!”

She tossed a copy of the morning's paper in front of him. “Suicide Bound Heiress Dates Local Detective,” stared back at him. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” 

“That's about how I felt about it,” Ellie muttered. “No idea how he got it into the morning edition. I know you had her off the cliff by six, but it has to take some time to set the type.”

“Computers,” he muttered, glancing over the article that speculated on everything from her mental health to the details of her husband's illness. As usual, there was nothing overt enough to give credence to a liable suit, but the slant was just negative enough to paint the famous widow in a very poor light.

“So, what was the story, really?” she asked.

“Looking at the blasted sky all night,” he told her. “Not responsible, but certainly no cause for this.

“And breakfast with the detective?”

He sighed and threw the paper back down, having gleaned all he wanted from the article. “She hadn't eaten. Nearly passed out on me, and she lives alone, so I took her for some food before I dropped her home. At the time, I thought I was doing her a favor.”

“We had half a dozen calls on her,” she reminded him. “You should have realized the press would get wind of it.”

“Sure I'm thinking of it now, Miller,” he grumbled.

“So, are you worried that this is going to keep her from going out with her again?” Ellie asked, almost hiding the grin that was leaking into her voice.

“It's not like that, and you know it.”

“Maybe not,” she told him. “But, it could be. She's a very pretty lady, and you haven't started ranting about how stupid she is. You're even defending her against the press.” Her voice no longer held humor, but simple honesty.

“She's... wounded,” he said softly. “Like a... an animal or something. Like if you touch her she'll break. Hell, if you speak too loud she might shatter.”

“That's very sad,” Ellie told him.

“She is that,” he agreed. 

“So, you're just going to... what? Watch her? Worry about her?”

He rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing at his beard and his tired eyes. The calls had come in early, and being senior detective he had more experience with suicide intervention than anyone else in the station. So they'd called, and he'd gone. He idly wondered how angry Daisy had been when she'd found his note.

“I'm going to do my job, Miller,” he said simply. “It's the only thing I'm good at.”

*~*~*

For more than two weeks, Alec Hardy had done little more than avoid the media and his co-workers with equal intensity. Why in hell was everyone so worried about his involvement with the newest Broadchurch resident, anyway? He had seen her once – professionally – and that single newspaper article had set off a landslide. Reporters were all over the village, having been alerted to the young woman's presence, and he didn't think either of them had gotten a minute's peace.

Thankfully, things finally settled down and Rose Tyler went back to being a simple resident. Within three weeks Alec could almost forget the soft hazel eyes and pale skin when she had sat across from him at JB's. And within a month he was able to go to work every morning without glancing out at the cliff and wondering if she really, truly had only been sight-seeing.

It was with more than a little surprise that he walked into his office on a Tuesday morning and found a simple basket containing a bottle of wine and a small variety of cheeses, all wrapped up in brown cellophane. He turned back and closed his door, then went to check on the delivery. The card was sealed – a fact for which he was eternally grateful – so he opened it up to read: “Sorry this is going to work, but I don't know where you live. I wanted to wait until the news crews cleared out. Thank you for the rescue, and for the breakfast. I’m sorry it caused so much trouble for you. R.”

He peeked through the plastic to read the labels, and noted that the wine was a very good brand. The cheeses were also high-quality. It honestly wouldn't have mattered to him if it had been a bottle of water and a few assorted candies from the local grocer. It was a very... nice gesture. Except that “nice” didn't quite explain it. It was a generous gesture, and one that was rarely made. He was used to his job being just that – a job – and thanks were few and far between. To receive this for something so minor... It meant something.

But what was he supposed to do with that something? In truth, he would love to get to know more about her. She was beautiful, and she seemed to have a very sweet spirit about her. But he hadn't been kidding when he'd spoken to Miller. She had a fragile quality that rather worried him. He didn't want to interfere with her grief. He'd taken the time to research her, and she was almost unbelievably sedate in the news. In the years of articles he'd found, not one had been sensational. In fact, the headline they day he'd met her was probably the most titillating that he'd seen. She was known for being calm, quiet, very reserved, and a devoted wife. There were no reports of anything untoward. Granted, the media could be trusted to be wrong more often than right, but anything sensational would sell. If they had been able to dig it up, they would have published it.

So that left him with a nice woman who had been thoughtful enough to thank him quite generously for simply doing his job. What was he supposed to do with that?

On a whim, he decided not to over think. Instead, he made a couple of calls. The first was to Beth Latimer, to get Rose's number. And the second was to Rose, herself.

She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hello, yourself,” he replied.

“Detective!” She sounded surprised, but she didn’t sound displeased. He hoped she wasn’t.

“I found something sitting on my desk this morning. I believe I have you to thank.”

She laughed softly. “I was the one doing the thanking. That was the point.”

“You are quite welcome,” he told her. “None of it was your fault. I have more than enough experience ignoring the press, so it’s rather second nature.” After a moment of silence he asked, “Are you... getting along better? Settling in?”

“I am,” she answered. “I still love the beach, but I’m staying clear of high places. I’ve walked a few parks as well, and I’m thinking of getting a dog to take along. But I still don't know the area very well.”

“Well... I might be able to help you with that.”

“Do you think so?”

“I could, maybe. There are plenty of places to walk, or even drive. Maybe I could… show you one of our restaurants. Someplace new to eat.”

There was a long pause. It was so long, in fact, Alec started to worry. Then, “I like the sound of that,” she told him.

“Good,” he replied, hoping that the surprise wasn’t too evident in his voice. “Then, what night works for you? We could have dinner, maybe. Or Lunch? Maybe, and then... talk a bit.”

“I really like the sound of that,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but it sounded natural enough. “Um... any night is good, really. My work is flexible; I'm mostly handling things online, in my own time. You work during the day, yes?”

“For the most part,” he admitted. “It depends on how things are going. Overall things have been quiet, but I’ve probably just jinxed that.”

“How about tomorrow night, then?” she asked.

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah. Okay?”

“I can pick you up at half-seven.”

“That would be great,” she told him. “I'll be ready.”

“I'll see you then.”

They said their goodbyes, and Alec hung up the phone with a slightly dazed feeling. Had he just made a date? Had he made a date with a recently widowed heiress? What on earth was he thinking? Whatever it was, he decided that he didn’t mind it so much. It wasn't that he expected anything to come of it; after all, he and the dating scene did not go together at all, as his sojourn into online dating had proved. But he had a feeling she could use a friend, and God knew he could use one. Maybe – just maybe – they would be able to manage friendship. He knew he was going to give it a try.

* ~ * ~ *

This had seemed like such a good idea when he had agreed to it, but Alec suddenly realized that he was no more adept at dating than he had been the last time he'd tried. That had been an uncomfortable fiasco, ending awkwardly at her door while they mutually decided it could never work. They hadn't actually said that, but it had been evident in what they had said.

Now, as he second-guessed whether to wear a suit, wondering if it really would get him points for effort, he truly wondered if he had made some horrible mistake. She had seen him in a suit; he worked in one every day. For him, it wasn't even dressy. Shifting racks in his closet, he decided to go a different route. He was taking her to a diner – it wasn't fancy, but it was the best food in the area – so a suit wouldn't really fit. Instead, he grabbed a pair of black jeans and a jumper that Daisy had given two Fathers’ Days back. He couldn't remember wearing it, but he liked the way the black, brown, gray, and olive all wove around one another in the pattern. He pulled on a gray vest, his jeans, and then the jumper. After checking in the mirror and deciding it was good as he was going to get, he headed for the door. He was terribly grateful that Daisy was spending the night with Chloe, and he didn't have to explain his attire to her.

By the time he had parked in front of Rose's house, his palms were sweating and he was thankful he had a pacemaker to keep his heart rate steady. He felt like he could fly to pieces, and it didn't make any sense. This wasn't even a real date. He was just going out to eat with a friend. That was all... really, just a friend. Not even that if he was honest; he barely knew her.

He told himself that three times more before leaving his car and heading up her walk. He knocked only once, and the door flew open. She looked as shocked as he was startled, but she was absolutely lovely. She had on simple slacks in a soft tan, and a light blue blouse with streaks in it that were the same tan color of her pants. Her shoes were simple trainers in white, and he rather liked that. He'd never thought balancing around on stilts was terribly productive, whatever fashion dictated.

“Oh,” she said, her smile slightly embarrassed. “I saw you drive up and thought I'd save you getting out.”

“Well... I'm here now.”

“I see that,” she told him. “Ready, then?”

“Ready,” he agreed, gesturing toward the car. She took a moment to lock her door using the key on her necklace, then she walked beside him to the car. He held the door for her, then got in to begin driving.

He had chosen a simple diner, wanting to show her one of his favorite places to eat, and opting for quality food over atmosphere. He had always enjoyed the salad bar and chicken fajitas, and he knew they carried less healthy fare as well. He thought it was likely to have an adequate selection. 

He had paid for their meal, and then they went through the cafeteria-style line. As always, he tended towards the lighter foods, with chicken and vegetables, a whole grain roll, and a small salad. She chose a beef and rice dish and a small salad to go with it. They sat across from one another at a booth by the window overlooking the River Brit. 

His meal was delicious and filling, but he could only watch as she took a few bites and then began pushing her meal around on the plate, rearranging rather than eating it.

“Would you rather have something else?” he asked, gesturing to her plate.

She shrugged and shook her head. “It's good,” she explained. “I just never seem to have an appetite.”

“Really?” he asked, and he knew the question had a suspicious bent to it. He had a teenage daughter, and he'd learned the dangers of eating disorders through their discussions. Thank heavens Daisy had a stronger self-image than some girls her age.

“I'm not anorexic,” she told him, and the tone was long-suffering. “I know I need to eat, but after a few bites I get queasy. My doctor has me drinking nutritional supplements until my appetite comes back. He says it's normal after... Well, it's normal.”

And with that, the elephant had wandered into the room. He decided it made more sense to address it than to ignore it. “How long has it been?”

“Been?”

He decided to come clean. “When we received word that you were moving into the area... Well, I say word, but what I mean is we received a police-directed cautionary notice that someone worthy of media attention would be moving in. I did the natural thing, and ran a web search. It was nothing invasive, I assure you. But it did mention your husband.”

“Ah,” she said with a nod. “I thought that was where you were headed, but I wasn't going to bring it up if you didn't. It seemed rude to bring him up when we're on a date.”

“So it is a date, then?” he asked.

“Most definitely. You drove, you paid, and I'm enjoying myself. But to answer your question, it's been... God, it's been nine months. Can it have been that long? Some days it feels like forever, and other days it feels like it just happened.”

“My divorce is the same way. Not that I'm comparing a divorce with what you've been through,” he clarified quickly. “I just mean that it doesn't seem like four years, and then other times it feels like yesterday.”

“How long were you married?” she asked.

“Just over twelve years,” he told her. “You?”

“Seven years. Well, almost eight. A few weeks short of eight, really.”

He looked at her for a few moments, and he could see that pain was still shadowing her eyes. “I'm truly sorry for your loss,” he said genuinely.

“Thank you.” She looked up and met his eyes, “I'm sorry for yours.”

He smiled a bit, and took another few bites of his meal. She began to pick apart her roll and nibble at it. Then she looked up at him with an expression of strength, bordering on resignation. “I need to show you something,” she told him. “I mean, I'm really enjoying tonight, and I feel like if I don't tell you – and you find out later – you'll be angry. Then again, I'm afraid you'll take one look and think I'm crazy and never want to see me again.”

He glanced up in surprise. “Why would you think that? I quite enjoy your company.”

“Hold that thought,” she requested. Then she reached into her purse to get her wallet and flipped it open. With a deep breath, she seemed to brace herself before she handed him the photo.

His heart didn't stop, but he was certain that was due to medical technology. It was a photo of Rose with a man who was most certainly her husband. Alec had thought the man had seemed familiar in the grainy, black-and-white photos he had found online, but the man looking back at him from this picture, his arms lovingly around his beautiful wife, could easily have been his twin. He was clean-shaven, his hair was shorter and stylishly spiked, and he wore a smile unlike anything Alec could ever remember having. He looked absolutely elated about something, and Alec had a good idea of what it was from the identical smile on Rose's face.

He wasn't sure how long he looked at the picture, stunned into silence. He glanced up at Rose to find her chewing one thumbnail and looking at him anxiously. She clearly was starting to believe her fears were well founded.

“I've heard of having a type, but his is overboard,” he told her, trying to smile and make a joke of it, and failing miserably. Was that why she had come out with him? Did she expect him to be her late husband? To replace him?

“You're nothing alike,” she said, as though she had read his thoughts. She reached for the photo as she continued. “You're really intense, and he never was. He was... truly one of a kind, and I loved him so much, but I'd never try to create that again. You see, he was always talking, a hundred kilometers an hour. He never sat still for a minute, not until he got sick. He lived off sugar and chips, and everything was a joke to him. Well, at first it was. We were happy – really happy – but I know he's gone.”

“Do you?” Alec asked. She seemed to be trying to convince herself more so than convince him.

“You're sweet,” she said. “And caring, and thoughtful. It's not that he wasn't, it's just that he didn't slow down long enough to think of feelings very much. You give me space, like when we met at the cliff. He would have swooped in and grabbed me up, dragged me off. But you talked to me, saw there was no problem, and let me lead.”

“And you showed me this because...”

She shrugged. “Like I said, I didn't want you to be angry with me. I would have done before, but I really liked you, and I don't have many friends here. But now that we're here, and maybe – I don't know – I just wanted to be honest. You don't sound a bit like him. He was sort of posh, and you're very Scottish. I don't see him when I look at you, either. Really, I didn't from the first. To me, you don't even look that similar. He had more freckles, and he had... a mole between his shoulder blades. Oh God, you don't have a mole, do you?”

He stared at her for a moment, and then finally broke. He couldn't keep the laughter in. She was just so... earnest. “No,” he told her. “No mole, on my back or anywhere else.”

“You see?” she said, deflating somewhat. “When I first saw you, I thought, 'Oh no, I'm never going to be able to handle this.' But by the time you took me home, you were Alec to me. And I know you have no reason to believe me, but it's the truth.”

“I believe you,” he assured you. “It's just a startling resemblance. You have to consider... what are the odds?”

“I can't count that high,” she answered. “But you can see why I wanted to get it out in the open. If you don't want to be around me, that's fine. But I don't want to lose a good friend later because I was less than honest now.”

He just nodded, because he did understand. “Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I should be honest with you as well.”

“About?”

“Well, I told you I'm divorced. The thing is, it was my fault. I tend to be very intense about my job, to the exclusion of all else. Tess left me because she felt like I'd already left her. Daisy has told me the same. She says that with my work it's always something.” He took a deep breath, and met her eyes once more. “I'm working on it, but it's likely the job will always come first.”

“It's probably that intensity that makes you good at it,” she offered.

Apparently she hadn't seen the newspapers which dubbed him the worst cop in Britain. “I'm not likely to change,” he told her.

“Duly noted,” she said with a nod. Then she looked rather obviously at his plate. “Is the chicken any good?” she asked.

He grabbed a spoon and scooped several pieces over onto her plate for her to nibble on.

“Good,” she agreed.

And with that, they were back to dinner.

* ~ * ~ * 

When the station received a morning call regarding a break-in at Rose's house, he grabbed Miller by one arm and informed her unceremoniously that she would be accompanying him for the sake of decorum if for no other reason. If anyone thought to question the D.I. heading out to the site of a common robbery, they had the good sense not to mention it.

When he and Miller pulled up in front of the quiet house with Rose Tyler sitting on the front porch step, Alec was decidedly relieved that she was unharmed, and that translated into more than a lot irritated.

“Good morning,” he said formally. “The station received a call about a break in?”

She sighed as she stood, both straighter and stronger than she had been the last time he had seen her. “I went for groceries,” she explained, gesturing to the canvas bags which were resting by the stairs she had been sitting on. “When I got back, the door was open. I nudged it a bit further, and it looks tossed. I came back out and called you.”

He nodded and pulled out a pad. “What time did you leave?

“Half-seven,” she replied. “I go a couple mornings a week.”

“And return?”

She glanced at her watch. “Nine-forty... ish.”

She had called in at nine forty-five, so that was consistent. He walked to the front door, nudged it gently with his sleeve to open it, and gave a quick look around. “I'm assuming that this isn't your normal housekeeping.”

Rose shook her head, and seemed to take the question seriously. “I'm a bit of a mess at times, but even at my worst I couldn't touch that.”

“Good to hear,” he said, and he almost wanted to smile. At the very least she wasn't letting this tear her down.

Rose took a deep breath and seemed to center herself, then she gestured for them to enter. “Should I go in, or just wait?”

“Wait just a mo,” he told her. “Stay with Miller.” He shouldered the door out of the way and stepped into what had probably been a lovely room. It had been tossed, good and proper. Drawers were emptied, furniture tipped, and anything that could be out of place seemingly was. He checked the house thoroughly, beginning downstairs, checking upstairs, and then downstairs again. He did his best not to step on anything that might potentially be evidence. He checked every room and every closet. He didn't have to touch a single doorknob, because every last door was open. At the back of the house, on the second floor, he found a shattered window. Glass littered he carpet, indicating that it had been crashed in, rather than out. Just outside the window there was a tall tree, branches looking strong and thick, that would have been as good as a ladder. Damn.

He exited the house with a good idea of what had happened, although he would call in an investigation team regardless. He needed to know what was missing – if anything – so they would have an idea of what to look for.

“It looks clear, so I want you to identify anything you notice missing,” he told Rose. “I'll lead,” Alec said, feeling a bit protective. The chance that anyone remained inside after his check was nearly nonexistent, but he wouldn't take even that much of a chance. “You follow me, and Miller will come in behind. I need you to tell me what's out of place as well as what's missing. If there's any movement while we're there, Miller will get you out. It's not likely – if I thought anyone could be there, I wouldn't let you in – but I want you prepared.”

She gave a nod to acknowledge her understanding, and followed directions as he led her through the house. He didn't have any idea how she might notice anything in the mess, but when they moved upstairs he could feel tension radiating from her.

She made a bee-line for her jewelry box, and he quickly reminded her not to touch. She nodded, but her eyes moved over the contents with clear agitation.

“What's missing?” he asked.

“Nothing important,” she finally said. “Everything is insured, and it can be replaced. There was a pearl necklace with matching earrings, a couple of rings – one emerald and one ruby – and the rest was inexpensive. Everything John gave me is at Mum's in the vault.”

“So why do you look like you've been punched?” he asked her softly.

“John gave me the box,” she answered, a catch in her voice. “For our first anniversary.”

Alec looked at the box. It was simple, elegant, and looked to be made of oak. The lid was broken off, hanging by a hinge, and some of the lining was torn. “We'll get it fixed,” he told her, squeezing her arm gently.

He didn't miss the look that Miller gave him when he did so, and he didn't like the speculation in her eyes. Surely she had seen him demonstrate concern for a crime victim. Some time. Granted, he didn't usually touch. He kept his hands to himself, and expected others to do the same... mostly. Truthfully, he had simply seen so much damage done by touch – innocent touch – that he had become cautious. All it took was one reporter to see him touch a victim, and it was police brutality, sexual harassment, or worse. The truth had very little to do with it. It was the same reason he kept his hands in his pockets at work. He couldn't afford to be brought up on charges. It kept him distant from his colleagues, but that was to be expected. He hadn't realized quite how distant it kept him until he saw the expression on Miller's face when he touched Rose's arm.

He released it quickly enough. “Let's start here, and you let me know what you see that's missing. Concentrate on valuables and electronics, as they're the easiest to trace. Then, we'll move to the next room. When we finish, I'll have Miller take you to the station for a written statement. 

Rose nodded, and began leading them through her home. There was far more damage than a simple robbery explained, but he would theorize on that later. For now he noted each missing item, asked about items common in rooms that she might not think of, and tried to keep her moving so that she didn't get too focused on any one area.

It took them over an hour to walk the house. By that time, Rose was hugging herself tightly. Miller had stepped up next to her and put an arm around her, and he wished he was free to do the same.

As he watched Miller load Rose up in his car – front seat… he approved – to take her back to the station, Alec moved over to the investigation team who waited on the lawn for clearance. He gave them the standard briefing, instructing them to overlook nothing and run anything by him that seemed odd. Then he stood by her front door and waited to be needed, feeling wholly inadequate because he couldn't do a damned thing to take away what had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose copes with the aftermath of the break-in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone still reading... thank you. I did not plan on a 4 month break,but life has a way of happening. First it was IEPs, and then it was vacation, and then it was two back surgeries, and then my son was hospitalized, and then school started... and I'm just now getting my head above water. I am hoping to continue updating, but for now just be assured that I have not abandoned this story. I will fit it in between lesson plans, work in general, and all my son's appointments to cardiology, gastroenterology, dietary, neurology, orthopedics, and now... oncology. As I said, it was a crazy summer. Writing should provide a very much needed escape from my current routine.

Rose smiled at the Detective Sergeant who was taking her statement. She'd heard, “Call me Ellie,” each of the three times she'd referred to the woman by title, but ranks had been ingrained into her since she’d begun with Torchwood. Nevertheless, the woman – Ellie – had been unfailingly gentle and kind. She had introduced herself the first time when Alec had gone into the house by himself for his initial check. The second time had had been when she'd opened the door to Alec's car for her. She'd sat in the same seat as four nights before, when they had gone to dinner. The seat didn't feel the same this morning, with Ellie driving and her emotions balancing on a thin edge.

The third time had broken her. It wasn't the theft; a part of her even understood the desire of those who did not have to want to take from those who had, at least intellectually. It was the vandalism that hurt the most. She could handle having things taken; someone might need them more than she did. But why did they have to destroy what was hers? Why did they have to destroy those few precious things she had left from John? Her heart felt sick, and she felt... violated. How would she feel safe in that house again?

And yet somehow she was going to have to get herself together before she spoke to her Mum. The last thing she needed was security flanking her everywhere she went. She didn't want guards; she just wanted to be left alone.

Distractedly, she realized that Ellie was speaking. “I'm sorry?” she asked. 

“It's fine. I was just saying that I want you to read this over, and be sure you don't want to add to it before it's signed. The investigation team is photographing everything for your insurance company, and then we can start planning to clean things up.”

Rose smiled, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms again. She couldn't seem to get warm. Ellie saw, and didn't say a word as she walked over to a hook mounted to the wall and removed a bright orange jacket. She settled it around Rose's shoulders and knelt down before her. “Is there anyone you want me to call?” she asked gently. 

Rose shook her head. “I don't know many people. It's just.... do you think they'll come back?”

Ellie tilted her had to the side and seemed to be considering. “I'm not doing the investigation,” she said carefully, “So I shouldn't speculate.”

“I understand,” Rose said. She hadn't expected an answer.

Ellie shook her head. “I said I'm not supposed to, but I will tell you that yours is not the first house to look like this. We've had several houses burgled, and they all looked as sloppy and tossed as yours. All of them were missing simple jewelry, electronics, and sometimes coins or silver. Common items, easily sold. We think – and of course we can't be sure - but we think the vandalism is just a cover to make the investigation more difficult. We have common fingerprints among the houses, although we haven't matched them to anyone on file. None of the other houses have been robbed a second time. It seems they get what they want the first go-round.” At Rose's look of relief, Ellie added, “And you didn't hear that from me, because Hardy would kill me for giving out confidential information. But I'm not going to let you sit here and worry when I don't think you have reason.”

“Thank you,” Rose said simply.

“You're welcome.” Ellie answered. “Now, you rest a bit here, and I'll go make some calls to see how much longer the team will take. If it'll be a while, I'll run you somewhere. I may even find something for you to eat before we go. Sound good?”

Rose could only nod, although she had no idea where she could go, and food was the last thing on her mind.

After Ellie had left, she took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. Not much better, she closed her eyes and tried again. Deep, slow breath, count to five, and let it out. Again. In, count, out. It took her far longer than it usually did, but she finally managed to bring herself down from the razor edge of emotion that she was sitting on. She hated feeling this... vulnerable. 

She wanted to rail and whine that life wasn't fair. Just when she had started to feel safe, started to hope again, and started to see the potential of a future... Of anyone in this world or any other, she knew about unfair. She had been ripped from the man she loved, fought her way back to him, only to be left standing on a beach with who she thought was a stranger. She had let herself fall in love with that stranger, marry, only to find that they could never have children. She had settled into a wonderful life, finally given her whole being to John, only to lose him to a cruel illness. The irony was that it wasn't even a disease, although it mimicked one of the neurodystrophies in symptoms and in action. It was the very thing that made her love him – his Time Lord consciousness – dissolving a human brain in stages until there was nothing left. It had been horrible, and cruel, and anything but fair.

Of anything, that thought snapped her out of her funk. Her house had been tossed, but no one had been hurt. Things had been taken, but they could be replaced. Things had been broken, but they could be repaired or not. Even the things John had given her were still whole in her mind and heart. No one would take that from her. She wouldn't let them.

Slowly, she warmed. She finally stood and put the orange jacket back onto the hook and took a moment to look around the police station. There were many people in small offices, and the bulk of the officers out in the middle area. It all presented a blur of motion.

She knew he was in the office before she saw him. There was a… presence about him. It was the only way to say it. Turning her head to follow the gaze of so many of the officers in the room, she saw him walking with a purposeful stride. He spoke to a couple of the officers, gave orders as though he knew they would be followed, and then turned towards her. His eyes locked with hers and he didn’t look away. He spoke a few more words to the officer before him, and then walked quickly to her.

“Did you need something?” he asked. His voice was different than it usually was, brusque and clipped, and she frankly didn’t like it.

“No,” she responded, stepping back into the room where Ellie had left her and sitting back down. Her hands went to her arms again, rubbing against the returning chill. She had a feeling the cold was coming from Alec’s voice more so than the air conditioning.

She heard him follow her into the room, but she didn’t turn around. She was feeling too unsure of herself. He had said only four words, but the tone, the inflection, and even the volume of those words were entirely wrong. It was like listening to a completely different man than the one she knew… thought she knew. It took all she had not to flinch away as he knelt down to her side.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m on edge.”

“Yeah,” she said, still not turning to meet his eyes. “You’re at work. I get it.”

“I’m still sorry,” he told her with a sigh. “You were at the door. Do you need anything? Some tea?”

“No, ta,” she said, her voice quiet. She would not cry. She would not cry because he’d snapped at her. Hell, he probably wasn’t even upset at her. She had been a Torchwood operative, for heaven’s sake! She would not crumble because Alec – D.I. Hardy – had been rude. She kept telling herself that, even as a tear trailed down her face.

“I found some cookies,” Ellie said as she walked back into the room, seemingly oblivious to Alec kneeling beside her and the overall tension in the room. She placed the plate in front of Rose, along with a steaming cup which had a string trailing from it. Earl Grey, the little tag said.

Rose tried desperately not to sniffle, not wanting to make the tears any more obvious than they already were, but Ellie didn’t look fooled. She grabbed a box of Kleenex and placed it in front of her. “If someone had broken into my house, I’d be bawling like a baby,” she said gently. “Don’t let him give you a hard time.”

Rose took a tissue and wiped her eyes gratefully. Alec might be an arse, but Ellie was wonderful. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine.” Deliberately she picked up the tea, neither her favorite type nor prepared as she liked it, and sipped at its warmth. Maybe her mum was right; there was very little that a cup of tea couldn’t make better.

“The team is already back,” Ellie told her. “Preliminary results indicate that it’s likely a simple break-in. I can take you home when you’re ready, or I can run you by the Trader. I’m sure Becca would have a room.”

“Yeah,” Rose said, taking a deep breath and ignoring the man kneeling beside her. If Ellie could do it, then so could she. “I don’t want to stay there until I can get the window fixed.”

“I’ll take her,” Alec told Ellie.

“Rose,” Ellie asked? Clearly she wasn’t intimidated by her boss.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. It didn’t. She wouldn’t let it.

“I’ll take her,” Alec repeated, giving Ellie a pointed look. She nodded, and quietly left the room.

When he stood up and reached for her, Rose didn’t take his offered hand. She couldn’t have said why those few harsh words – not even rude in content, but delivery – had upset her so much, so she stood on her own, straightened her back, and preceded him from the room. She walked all the way to the door leading outside before she stopped and waited for him.

It didn’t take him long, and he didn’t make the mistake of reaching for her again. He did open the door for her, and then the door to his car. She got in, and winced slightly as the door closed after her.

He didn’t start the car. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I warned you that I’m… intense on the job. I suppose it’s worse when someone I care about is involved in the crime. Hell, I’m the one who’s always on Ellie about staying professional and not letting feelings get in the way of the job. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” He turned and faced her. “I truly didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she remained quiet.

“I have to… Ellie is the caring one. I get the job done. I have to stay detached. It’s the only way I can do this job.” He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I don’t know what else I can say.”

She took a deep breath of her own, and let it out shakily. “When I first knew my husband, he had been through… a lot. He’d lost a lot. There were times he’d just come apart. It wasn’t often to me, you see. He called it ‘the Oncoming Storm’, when he just couldn’t keep it together, and he always had a really good reason. It didn’t happen often, and later it didn’t happen at all. But back at the beginning, I didn’t always know where I stood.” She finally faced Alec. “I don’t like being snapped at. When I was young, I took it because I didn’t know what else to do. A year ago, I would have snapped back. Now I just don’t have it in me.”

“I’m…”

“Sorry,” she finished for him. “I got that.”

“What can I do?”

Closing her eyes, she decided to be practical. “I need some things from the house, and then I’d like to go to the hotel. I won’t feel safe at home until the window is fixed, and I have that branch cut down. I’ll probably have new locks put in, too.”

“We can do that,” he assured her.

The trip into her home was heart rending. She tried not to look around at the chaos as she went to her room and threw together the toiletries and clothes she would need. Making sure she locked the door – for what good it did – she let Alec walk her back to his car. 

If the trip home was heart rending, the trip to the Trader was frustrating. There were no rooms. Period. At least, that’s what the owner insisted. Something about the snide look on her face made Rose think that even if there had been one, she wouldn’t have been allowed to use it.

“I suppose this is the only hotel in town,” she said once they were back in Alec’s car, and she knew her dejection was coming through in her voice. She couldn’t help it, because she didn’t have the strength to pretend.

“It is,” he admitted. “But I think I can help.”

“How?”

He didn’t answer, just started driving. He stopped at a house near the water. It wasn’t big, but it looked inviting enough. He pulled into the drive and got out to open her door and take her single bag. “You won’t let me apologize for being an arse, but I’ve always thought actions were worth more than words. Will you come with me?” he offered.

She looked at him a moment, then acquiesced, partly because she felt bad for him and partly because she had few options. She could call Beth, she supposed, but she wasn’t ready to face anyone else. Rose followed him up a short walk to the door, where he used his key to enter. The lights were on, and as soon as they were inside she heard footsteps.

“Hey, Dad, you’re way early!” The voice was young, as was the bouncy girl who walked from a blue kitchen with white cabinets to greet them. She pulled up short, just staring.

“Daisy, this is a friend. Rose.” He turned to Rose and added, “This is my daughter, Daisy.”

“Hey,” the girl said brightly, but with a distinct air of confusion. It was clear Alec didn’t bring home many women.

“Hi,” Rose answered.

“Dais, Rose’s house was vandalized earlier today. She can’t go home until some repairs are done. Can you put some clean sheets on my bed for me, so that she can stay there? I’ll sleep on the sofa when I get in. There are still some things to take care of before I come home.”

“Usually are,” Daisy said with a resigned smile.

“No,” Rose said, more than a little dismayed. “I’m not taking your bed. I can sleep on the sofa.”

“He doesn’t sleep much anyway,” Daisy told her. “If he comes home tonight, that is.”

“I’ll be home,” Alec insisted.

Rose was still feeling dazed when he turned to her. “It’s not a hotel, but it’ll get you through the night.”

“You don’t have to do this,” she told him, beginning to feel guilty for getting so upset at him earlier, and thinking that was why he had offered his home.

“No, I don’t,” he told her. “And normally I wouldn’t. But I’d rather you weren’t alone, and you can keep Daisy company. The window will be fixed tomorrow, and we can go from there.

Rose chewed on a thumbnail, uncertain. “Are you okay with this,” she asked Daisy. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to,” she said simply. “I trust my dad.”

“Thanks, Dais,” he said, kissing his daughter on the forehead. I won’t be long.”

“Right,” the girl said, clearly sarcastic but just as clearly amused. She wasn’t really upset, just resigned.

Alec rolled his eyes, an action that made him look at least ten years younger, and then turned to Rose. “It won’t take me long to finish, but it will take a while. It’s already getting late, so I don’t expect you to wait up. You’ve had a long day.”

He was right. First an early shopping run, and then hours at the house cataloging and wracking her brain for what she’d put away only weeks before, comparing that to the mess that was left. Then hours at the station, writing it all out and going over and over the same things until she wasn’t even sure what she’d already said and what she meant to say. Then there was the hotel, and the obnoxious innkeeper. Weren’t innkeepers supposed to be polite and accommodating? Now this… He was right; she was exhausted.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I’ll try to rest.”

Alec reached out and touched her face with a finger, running it along the line of her jaw for just a moment. “You do that,” he said simply. “If you need anything, Daisy will help you find it.”

“I’ve got this,” Daisy assured her father, and within moments he was out the door. Rose could still feel the brush of his fingers on her face.

“Okay,” Daisy said brightly. “Slumber party it is.” Her grin was infectious, and almost enough to let Rose forget why she was there in the first place. “I’m really sorry about your place. How about we get the bed changed, and then find something to eat. I’m thinking ice cream.”

Rose had to smile, although it wasn’t one of her best. “Chocolate?” she asked, realizing for the first time that she had missed lunch, and hadn’t remembered to bring the cookies Ellie had found for her with her. Granted, she’d thrown a couple of nutrition drinks into her bag, but ice cream sure sounded better.

“Vanilla,” Daisy told her. “But I have hot fudge, and maybe some whipping cream left.”

“That sounds amazing,” Rose admitted. And it did.

When they had the bed made with clean sheets – although the used ones had smelled just fine, and she wondered just how accurate Daisy was in her accusation that Alec didn’t sleep often – Rose joined Daisy in the kitchen for hot fudge sundaes. The room was pleasantly cluttered, and clearly used. She liked that better than the stilted formal kitchens that some people had. Even her own kitchen lacked the friendly clutter that made a home inviting.

“So?” Daisy asked as she liked away fudge that was frozen to her spoon from the ice cream.

“So?” Rose asked in return, not understanding exactly what Daisy was asking. She thought she had an idea, but she wasn’t going to begin the discussion without provocation.

“So, how do you know my dad?” the girl asked.

“That’s a long story,” Rose deflected.

“And if you’re tired, you’d better get started,” Daisy told her. “My dad says I’m tenacious.”

Rose grinned at that. “I imagine you are,” she admitted. “Well, more than half the times I’ve seen him have been work related… his work, not mine. The first time he was sent to keep me from jumping off a cliff. I learned that sight-seeing is best done from the beach. He took me for some breakfast…:

“He what?” Daisy interrupted. 

“I think he was feeling sorry for me. New in town and all. Anyway, I’m sure you saw the newspapers after that.”

“I really don’t read them,:” she admitted. “I heard that dad was seen with some heiress, but the kids at school didn’t say any more around me. They’re mostly terrified of him, but he’s given them reason. I asked him about it once, and he said it was ridiculous.”

“I’m not an heiress,” Rose explained. “Although, I can’t seem to convince the press of that. Dad’s money will go to my little brother, not me.”

“But your dad’s rich?”

Rose shrugged one shoulder as she scraped ice cream from the edge of her bowl. “He has a company that’s well off, and he has a nice house and lots of nice things. I guess he’s rich. I try not to think about it.”

“Where does he live?”

“London,” Rose answered.

“My mom’s moving there,” Daisy offered. “It’s one of the reasons I moved here. I hate the city.”

“Why?”

Daisy mirrored the shrug Rose had given her. “Just do.”

“Anyway, we had breakfast, and then after all the mess with the paparazzi I sent him a gift basket, just to apologize. He asked me out to dinner, and we had a good time.”

“Wait,” Daisy said, her eyes going wide. “My dad asked you out?”

“Just the once,” Rose said, feeling her face turn pink. “We just ate dinner. Dinner was easier than lunch, with his schedule, and it wasn’t like a real date. I mean, we’re just friends. We ate, we talked, and he drove me home. He did walk me to the door, but that was it. As soon as I was inside and locked up, he left.”

“So, like a real date?” Her voice was acutely disbelieving.

“I told him it was,” Rose admitted, and then smiled. “He seemed kind of surprised.”

“No kidding,” Daisy said with a laugh. “He doesn’t date… not ever. Well, there was one time I did an online profile and got him to go out, but that was kind of a mess. She turned out to be a reporter. Even if she hadn’t been, Dad said he’d never do it again.”

“He was nice,” Rose admitted. “I really enjoyed talking to him, but that’s really all it was. Like I said, we’re just friends.”

Daisy tilted her head to the side, and then asked, “Is that a wedding ring?”

Rose looked at her hand. “Yes. I was married, but my husband passed away.”

Daisy’s eyes were sad as she apologized. “I’m sorry. Was it a long time ago?”

“Not so much,” Rose admitted. “It’s why I moved here, though. I wanted a fresh start, new people, and not to have my Mum quite so close. She worries, you see, and it’s sweet. But she worries all the time, and after a while it just made me tired.”

“So why did he bring you here?”

Rose finished her last bite and went to the sink to rinse her bowl and spoon. “He told you. Someone broke into my house. They came in through the upstairs window, we think, from a tree branch. I need to get the window fixed and the branch cut down tomorrow.”

“That’s awful. Do you need help with getting stuff cleaned?” she asked. “Dad said there was vandalism. I have a friend – Kathy – and her house was broken into a few weeks ago. They only took the computers and TV and all Kathy’s video consoles, but the house was a wreck. Everything was thrown all over. Dad said it was probably because they didn’t want them to know what was missing right away, but Kathy knew what she had. Anyway, I’d be happy to help you clean up.”

“I don’t have all that much stuff,” Rose admitted. “I left a lot of it in storage with my mum. But I’d enjoy the company if it’s okay with your dad.”

Daisy smiled at that. “He won’t care. He’s always telling me to get out of the house,” she said, and then she paused thoughtfully. “So long as he knows where I am,” she added. “He’s really big on that.”

“He just wants you safe,” Rose reasoned.

“That’s what he says,” Daisy agreed.

“It’s good that you have someone looking out for you,” Rose said. “He really loves you. He talks about you a lot. He’s really proud of you.”

Daisy’s smile softened. “I’m proud of him, too,” Daisy said. She rinsed her dishes and placed them next to Rose’s. “You ready for bed?” she asked.

Rose thought about that for a moment. As tired as she was, she had been afraid she wouldn’t be able to relax in a new place. The time with Daisy had relaxed her, though. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I think I can sleep.”

When Daisy left her, she climbed under the covers in Alec’s room and settled in. Later, she would think about – wonder about – how comfortable she felt there, surrounded by his things. But just then, she simply drifted off to sleep.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose spends the night at Alec's house... Alec and Daisy have a heart-to-heart... The morning after, complete with breakfast and conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I find myself apologizing for the delay in posting. Real life interferes... enough said. My goal is to try to do better in the new year. Thanks so much for the many Kudos! I will try to repay your kindness by writing and posting on a more regular basis.

Chapter 6

Alec parked, and then locked up before jogging up the stairs towards the police station. He hated that he had snapped at Rose, but he was wound so tight that it was a wonder he hadn’t screamed at everyone in sight. He couldn’t remember being this angry since a trio of boys had made his daughter’s life a living hell. He had not been able to protect her from that hurt, just as he hadn’t been able to protect Rose. What good was it to be in law enforcement if he couldn’t protect those who couldn’t protect themselves?

The perpetrators were most likely youths, and he was trying desperately not to focus on the boys who had tormented his daughter. He had no reason to suspect them – they were cruel, but he had no evidence they were criminal – but his dislike of the boys was coloring his judgement. It had to be kids. Professional thieves didn’t shimmy up trees and primarily take gaming equipment. Professionals also didn’t make such a mess of things. They were more likely to slip in and out, leaving things so carefully clean that it was difficult to notice they had been there at all.

The truth was, he hadn’t put much attention into this case at all. He tended to focus on violent crimes, leaving the breaking and entering to his sergeants. Now he was blaming himself, because if had attended a bit more earlier on, perhaps Rose wouldn’t have had that look on her face. It was a look of pure pain, and innocence destroyed. It was also a look of fear, and he couldn’t abide that look on those he cared about.

And that was another thing… When had he started to care about Rose? They had dated – if he called it that – only once, or perhaps twice if he counted breakfast. He didn’t know her well enough to care about her. Hell, Tess had assured him that he didn’t care about those he did know. For years, he had only really cared about Daisy, letting no one else close enough to make an impression. Over the past three years, there had been a few others who had wormed their way in. Ellie had pulled her family into his world, whether he liked it or not, and much to his dismay. Beth Latimer had been another one, weaseling under his defenses and bringing Chloe and Lizzy along as well. He didn’t want to care. The only thing that came of caring was more pain.

He took the stairs all the way up to his floor, and did his best to slip into his office without any discussion. He could normally manage this, as his officers didn’t want to annoy him any more than he wanted to be annoyed. His reputation for handing them their arses was legendary. Alec had a great deal of research to do to catch up on this case. He needed to see where they stood with suspects, and who had been interviewed to date. He knew there were no fingerprints that were able to be matched – that would have made things too easy – but perhaps there was other evidence he hadn’t been privy to. After all, he hadn’t made it a priority. Perhaps if he had, Rose would be sleeping in her own bed tonight.

“Did you ever get your foot out of your mouth?” Ellie asked, opening his door and stepping through without knocking, much less waiting for his invitation. Thankfully, she tugged it closed behind her.

He sat back from his desk and raised his hands to his face. When was the last time he had bothered to shave? His face felt worse than normal… if there was a normal. “What do you want, Miller?”

“I’d like to know why you attacked Rose as though she was a suspect rather than a victim,” she answered. “Did you see her face?”

“It was hard to miss,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I only asked her what she needed. Some people would call that a courtesy.”

“Only if they didn’t hear it,” she told him, settling down into the chair across from his desk.

“I told her I was sorry.”

“Sorry fixes everything?” she asked. “You sound like a child.”

“May as well,” he muttered. “You sound like my mother.”

“Did you settle her down?” Ellie asked, her voice genuine. “She really was upset.”

“I think so… I hope so. She seemed better when I left her.”

“What room is she in?” Ellie asked.

“She’s not,” he said, meeting Ellie’s eyes for the first time. “Becca said she was full. The car park was half-empty, so I don’t think it was the case.”

“What did you say to her?”

He shook his head. “I just told Rose I’d take care of it. No idea what Becca had in for her, but she was nearly hateful.”

Ellie smiled. “This surprises you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What’s Rose done to her?” he asked.

“She’s gone out with you,” Ellie answered. “And the Echo said she did more than that. You know Becca’s had her eye on you for years.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered. “I’ve never done anything to…”

“Have you forgotten that she slept with Mark Latimer, and half the other married men in the town. I think you’re the only man who’s told her ‘no’ and made it stick. Do you really think she’ll go down quietly if you’re with Rose?”

“What’s all this ‘with Rose’ nonsense? We’re not having an affair!” he insisted. “We’ve only been out to eat a couple of times, and that was in plain view of anyone who wanted to watch. Nothing improper has been…”

“Improper,” Ellie laughed. “Listen to you. Since when do people in a small town care what’s proper, or even what’s actually happening for that matter. She’s beautiful, you’re fit enough, and it’s human nature to pair people up.”

“People need to mind their own bloody…”

“They never have, and they never will,” she reminded him. “And you didn’t ever tell me what you did with Rose.”

He looked down, feeling the slight heat rising in his face. If the town was talking now, what had he put Rose in for by taking her home. “She’s… with Daisy,” he muttered.

“You took her home?” Ellie asked, rising to her feet. 

“Well I didn’t know what you just told me then, now did I?” he grated. “I couldn’t take her home, not with the window broken.”

“And you couldn’t take her next door to Beth?” she asked. “Or drop her by my house?”

He continued looking down, and he didn’t answer.

“It didn’t even occur to you, did it?” she asked, and her voice had softened.

“She’s alone here, Miller. She had a fright, and the vandalism hurt her. You saw her face when she saw that jewelry box. I suppose I needed…”

“To know she was okay?” Ellie asked. “Or to make it okay?”

Suddenly he was filled with uncertainty, and it wasn’t a feeling he liked. Three years ago it would have made him furious. As recently as last year it would have made him irritable. Now, with Ellie, it only made him sad. “Have I made it worse for her?” he asked simply, knowing she would tell him the truth.

She sat back down and looked at him for a moment. “Possibly. You’ve like as not made it so there will be speculation, but there was already. You should probably talk to her about it, though. I can’t imagine she’s as oblivious as you – she’s had too much experience with the paparazzi – but she may not know how word travels in a village.”

He nodded at that. “I’ll talk to her,” he promised. “When I get home, though. I want some answers for her first. What can you tell me about the investigation?”

* ~ * ~ * 

As Alec unlocked his front door, he wished that Miller had known more. He wished the investigation had moved further. He wished that Rose wasn’t involved. But more than anyone, he knew that wishing was worth less than nothing. It was three in the morning, and he was finally so tired that he couldn’t think clearly. He had made it home on tea steeped until it was black, loaded in several tablespoons of sugar. It had been nauseating, but he hadn’t wanted to fall asleep on the drive. He also didn’t want to admit to any of his men that he shouldn’t have been driving. God knew it wasn’t the first time.

He had seen a vague light in the living room window, so he expected to find Rose sitting up and waiting for news. What he didn’t expect was to see his daughter curled up in a corner of the sofa staring at her phone as she so often did.

“Past your bedtime,” he remarked as he took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, rubbing tired hands over bloodshot eyes.

“Yours too,” she countered. Then, after a moment of looking at him, “You look awful.”

“Thanks ever so,” he told her with a weak glare. He hadn’t energy for more.

“I was going to give you a hard time about not telling me you’re dating, but I guess this isn’t the time,” she admitted.

“I’m not dating,” he argued.

“Rose said you are.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he ignored it. “Is she in my room?” he asked.

Daisy nodded. “She didn’t put up too much of a fight. She was too tired.”

He nodded. “I am as well.”

“You can take my bed,” she told him. “You’re too tall for the sofa.”

“I’ll not take your bed,” he argued. 

“You aren’t taking it. I’m giving it.” She grinned at him. “Different matter entirely.”

“Daisy…”

“Let me do this for you,” she requested. “You’re always taking care of everyone else. It’s your turn.

He nodded, feeling that to do anything more would seem ungrateful. He and Daisy ad come a long way in their relationship in a short time, and she was making a beautiful gesture. Truthfully, he didn’t think it would matter where he lay down; he was too tired to stay awake any longer.

After a brief hug and kiss to her forehead, he walked down the hall. Unable to stop himself, he peeked into Daisy’s open door to see how Rose was doing. She was wrapped around herself in something near the fetal position, her mobile phone on the pillow next to her and ear pods in her ear. He could faintly hear music from the doorway, so he knew that it must be blaring for her. He was reminded of the time after Tess had moved out. The house had been so silent that he couldn’t stand it. He had left the television on constantly, although he never watched it. He just wanted the noise to fill the emptiness.

Passing by the doorway, he stepped into his daughter’s room. Instead of the pink and white she’d wanted in her bedroom when she’d been younger, it was decorated in soft greens and blues. There were tiny daisies – her namesake – around the edges of the pillow shams and the material of her drapes, but that was the end of the little-girl effect. It was the room of a young adult, and it scared the living shit out of him.

He didn’t pull back the duvet, but instead he sat down to kick off his shoes and then turned right onto his side to lie down. He was drifting off before he could worry about getting under the covers.

* ~ * ~ * 

Alec woke to the scent of a full fry-up. Bacon, sausage, toast, and other savory smells drifted through the door he had forgotten to close. Light shone through the windows casting bright squares onto the cream-colored carpet. His head ached slightly, letting him know that he hadn’t slept long enough. A glance at the clock confirmed this, showing that it was slightly before eight in the morning. Just under five hours sleep wasn’t ideal, but he had survived on far less. 

He got up and walked out of Daisy’s room. As his own room was open, with the bed made and no one in sight, he walked in and closed the door behind him. He stepped into the en suite, still slightly humid from Rose’s shower. He tried to ignore the flowery scent that permeated the room as he stepped into the shower and deliberately turned the temperature down below his normal temperature. He needed to wake up, not to relax.

He was out of the shower in a few minutes, feeling somewhat more alert than he had been. He brushed his teeth, grabbed clean clothes from his bedroom, and dressed. Once he was decent, he followed his nose to the source of the amazing scents wafting from his kitchen.

He hadn’t been wrong. There was a plate on the stove where bacon and sausage were waiting, and a pan was next to it containing fried potatoes. Another small plate held several slices of buttered whole wheat toast. Normally he opted for a bowl of oatmeal – the strong suggestion of his cardiologist – but there was no way he was going to pass up this breakfast when he was already coping with limited sleep.

“I didn’t even know we had this much cholesterol in the house,” he said from the doorway.

Rose, who had her head in the refrigerator, startled and rattled the door. Her head swung around, and a soft smile settled on her features. “Daisy’s been hiding it,” she admitted. “She said you weren’t home enough to object.”

“Probably so,” he admitted. He took another deep inhale. “Smells amazing.”

“It does,” she agreed, sounding surprised. “I thought I’d treat Daisy to not having to cook after she was so sweet last night. “But I may decide to partake.”

“We can sin together,” he said with a wink. Then that sentence replayed in his still-not-entirely-alert mind, and he realized how badly it could be taken. “I mean…”

“Got it,” she said with a grin. “You’re usually a pretty healthy eater, yeah?”

“Cardiologist mandate.”

She shook her head. “You said you had an arrhythmia?” she asked.

“Hmm,” he replied as he took a plate from the cupboard. “A-fib with tachycardia,” he admitted.

“So, that’s not like clogged arteries or heart failure,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“True. It’s an electrical issue. That’s why the pacemaker helps.”

“So, how does your diet play in?” she asked. “That’s a different heart condition altogether.”

He selected a couple of pieces of bacon, one of sausage, and a spoonful of potatoes. Then he grabbed two pieces of toast, and left the eggs on the stove. “He’s a cardiologist,” Alec reasoned. “Diet is his…” he gestured to his plate, “Bread and butter.”

“Makes sense.” Rose had put a small amount of food on her plate to set it on the table. Then she filled a glass half-full with milk and carried it with the tea pot to the table. Before sitting, she grabbed two mugs and placed one before him and another in front of her plate.

Rose had dressed in a simple pair of leggings with tiny flowers on them and a light, long jumper that fell to her thighs. Her feet were bare, and there was something that seemed strangely intimate about her naked feet in his kitchen first thing in the morning.

“Thanks,” he told her, reaching for the tea pot to fill both mugs. The brew was strong, just as he liked it, and steam rose from the mug.

“Milk?” she asked, holding up her glass. “I didn’t drink any yet.”

He shook his head. “Not this morning,” he said. “I’d take the caffeine by infusion if it was possible. Straight and strong is best.”

She smiled, pouring a small amount of milk into her mug. He took it as a sign of understanding. 

“How did you learn cardiology?” he asked, curious.

“A lot of time in hospitals,” she said as her lips turned down. “You pick things up. Some from doctors, and more from the other patients and family members. John tried to stay home as much as he could, but sometimes it was more than a home nurse could manage.”

He could have kicked himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, regretting the loss of her smile.

She shrugged one shoulder. “It happened,” she said simply. “Actually, it’s better if you’re not careful. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”

“Here?”

“Broadchurch,” she said, setting her cup down after taking a long sip. She left her hands wrapped around the mug, as though she were cold. “Right after, everyone was so bloody careful not to say anything… Not his name, or anything about our life together, where we’d gone, or what we’d done. It was like living in a bubble where he’d never existed.” She finally released her cup to pick up her fork. “I know they didn’t want to upset me, but it did the opposite. It felt like everyone wanted to just forget him. He was the best part of my life for over ten years, and everyone acted like he never existed. And I had all this… grief, and pain, and confusion. And if I tried to talk about it, they just changed the subject. It was like losing him all over again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling like he could say nothing else in the face of her frustration.

“Just don’t be careful,” she finally said, winding down a bit. “I’d rather be sad than be treated like I’m so fragile I’d break.”

“I don’t see you as fragile,” he said, clear on this at least. “You’re one of the strongest women I think I’ve ever known.

“Oh, I have my weak moments,” she said, a sad smile slipping onto her face. “You saw that yesterday.”

“Your home was violated and your safety compromised… your property taken or damaged. You weren’t weak; you were amazingly strong,” he told her. “Weak would have curled up in a corner and never called the police. Weak would have refused to go back in the house. Or worse, weak would have cleaned up the mess and pretended it hadn’t happened, and probably have been a target in the future. I’ve seen it enough. You definitely weren’t weak.”

“I felt it,” she admitted. “I couldn’t even sleep in my own house.”

“That was practical,” he argued. “It isn’t safe until you have that window fixed and the tree branches cleared. You may even want to consider break-resistant glass for that window.”

“I guess.” Rose was currently staring at her empty plate with something close to surprise. “I don’t even remember eating,” she admitted.

“It looks like distraction is good for your appetite.’

“Apparently.”

Alec popped his last bite of toast into his mouth and washed it down with his last sip of tea. The breakfast had been a pleasure, as had watching her absently pick away at her meal until the plate was clean. He had a feeling that didn’t happen often. “What are your plans today?”

“I need to find a good locksmith,” she told him. “And deal with the mess. There’s the window, the tree… It’ll be a full day.”

“I’ll leave you Dan Bremmer’s number,” Alec said. “He’s a contractor, and he’ll know good people to handle most of those jobs. He may even be able to find you someone to help with the cleanup, if you like. I know he has cleaning services come in before he closes on houses he builds.”

“Thanks,” she said, reaching for his plate as she stood, and stacking her own on top. “I would feel better knowing the workers come with references, and that will save me a lot of research.”

While she rinsed off dishes to place them in the dishwasher, he scrolled through numbers on his phone to find Bremmer’s mobile. He scribbled the number on the dry-erase board that Daisy had placed on the refrigerator shortly after they’d moved in. “Here’s that number,” Alec told her. “Just tell him what happened, and that I sent you to him. He’s usually backed up, but he’ll prioritize this under the circumstances. If he has any questions, just have him call me.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning towards him. 

“I also wrote down my mobile number, so you don’t have to go through the station if you need me. Daisy’s, too. And if you’ll give me your keys, I’ll have one of my sergeants bring your car by later. That way you can start on phone calls here, and have things rolling by the time you have it. He was tightening his tie and reaching for his jacket when he caught her expression. 

She was standing, facing him, with arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Not a friendly expression.

“What?” he asked.

“First of all, you’re going into that ‘work-mode’ that I really don’t like, where you snip at me and tell me what to do,” she said. “I know you’re used to being in charge, but you need to remember that I’m not your problem to solve. I do for myself, and I have for a long time. I won’t depend on anyone… not for the basics, and fixing my house is basic.”

He did another of the mental rewinds, and realized that he had been taking over. “Fair point,” he said softly. “Consider all those recommendations, rather than orders.”

She finally smiled, the expression reaching her eyes for the first time this morning. “Progress.”

“I can be taught.”

“Then, I’ll get my keys, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“I wouldn’t have… offered if it was.”

“Then, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he walked through the living room on his way out, he stopped to leave a gentle kiss on Daisy’s forehead. “Class in an hour, Dais,” he said as he squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m up,” she muttered.

“Really?”

She shifted to sit. “I’m up,” she repeated. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” he told her. “Love you.”

“Love you, Dad.”

He walked out the front door even as Daisy stumbled to the bathroom. Neither saw Rose standing in the kitchen watching them, a very gentle smile on her face.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose returns home and gets some things taken care of... but Alec is keeping an eye on things. They get to know each other a little better, and eat yet another meal... not sure why they eat all the time, but it may have something to do with Alec's subconscious worry over Rose's eating habits... Anyway...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't you proud of me? I said I'd write more in the new year, and I've tried to write a little bit each day. I missed one day, but I think I made up for it today. I'm having fun explaining their history, and I think it's important to the continuing relationship. I am resisting working on my "background" story, so that I can get this one finished first. That story will be next, entitled "Not the Way We Expected." That story will begin with the drop-off in Norway, and see Rose and John settled into a happy marriage. It's much fluffier than this one, with a smidge of comedy thrown in. 
> 
> But for now... on with this story.

Chapter 7

Deep breath, hold, count to five, and slowly release.

Rose closed her eyes to block out the chaos, then repeated the exercise once, twice, and a third time before she felt her heart rate come back to normal and the lump in her throat receded. Things, she told herself. They were only things.

She had to go through the breathing again once she opened her eyes, but she finally had herself under control. She was unaccountably grateful that she hadn’t let Ellie accompany her into the house, instead insisting that she go with the Sergeant who had driven her to Alec’s house and followed behind them to Rose’s.

She had done as Alec recommended, and called his contractor before coming to the house. Mr. Brenner had given her the numbers for a local hardware store that could repair the window today, an odds-and-ends service who would be out that evening to trim the branches from the tree nearest that window, and even a maid service out of Southampton which was both reliable and distant enough that she wouldn’t feel odd about having them in the house. The only service she hadn’t been able to secure was a locksmith. The closest one was based in Bournemouth, but he wouldn’t be available until the following week. She had finally managed to secure one in Portsmouth, but even he couldn’t come out until the next day. She told herself it wasn’t important; the thief hadn’t come in through the doors, anyway. She hadn’t managed to convince herself.

Rose locked the door behind her and set her purse and suitcase by the door. She purely despised clutter, and this room was in a shamble. She took a fortifying breath and went about straightening furniture and putting things back in place, but it wasn’t long before she realized a bin bag was going to be necessary to deal with all the broken items. 

Using her phone, she carefully photographed each item and made note of it before adding it to the bin bag. She also photographed various dents and dings in the furniture she was going to keep. She hoped it would simplify the insurance process, but she wasn’t entirely optimistic. Perhaps she would have Pete turn it all in and avoid much of the hassle. She weighed the hassle of fighting the insurance company against the hassle of explaining the situation to her parents, and she remained undecided. She supposed she would have to tell them, but she wasn’t looking forward to it.

It took her nearly three hours to get through the living room, and then she started on the kitchen. Straighten, sort, photograph, list, and then bin it. Over an hour into this job, she heard a knock on the door and welcomed the excuse to take a break.

“Hello,” Beth said, reaching up to hug rose as soon as the door was opened. Chloe followed suit and hugged Rose as well before they both stepped into the recently straightened living room. “We heard what happened, and thought you could use some help.”

“Or at least some company,” Chloe added. “It’s awful, what they did.”

Rose did her best to fight tears as she gratefully gave Beth a second hug. “You’re the best,” she whispered as she did so.

“Just a neighbor,” Beth said with a gentle smile. Both she and Chloe were dressed to work, wearing old jeans and sweat shirts. Chloe had her hair pulled back in a pony-tail, and Beth’s was covered in a simple scarf.

“I’m in the kitchen,” she told them, gesturing them before her.

“How are we doing this?” Beth asked. “We don’t want to get in the way of your system.”

Rose briefly explained what she was doing, and they each took up a job. Rose continued to straighten and sort, Beth photographed and logged, and Chloe binned what couldn’t be saved and washed what could so that it could be put away. This room took less than an hour to finish, which Rose wouldn’t have believed possible.

She had Beth photograph the bathrooms while Chloe binned everything that wasn’t damaged. Very little was left, but she didn’t bother with cleaning as the maid service was scheduled to come in. It took them far longer in her little office. The photography and serial numbers for the damaged electronics – all older pieces – were tedious to record, but she knew it was necessary. Her laptop was gone, as were her good television and state-of-the-art sound system. She wasn’t even sure she had the serial number, but both had registered warranties so she should be able to get them fairly easily. She had Chloe make a note that she needed to remember to do it.

They took a break around half-four, having a cup of tea, some biscuits, and letting in the maid service who began downstairs with a thorough cleaning of the kitchen and downstairs bathroom. She also let in the young men from the hardware store so that they could replace the window with a shatter-resistant version and repair the damage to the window frame. She hated that she had to clear a path for them to reach the window, embarrassed at the state of the room, but she couldn’t see cleaning it up until after they had finished. Outside the new window, she noticed that two men had brought in a bucket-truck to cut off all the branches within four meters of the window, and she had them trim the bushes which grew near the downstairs window at the front of the house, concerned that it might allow someone to break in at ground level without being seen. She would have it replaced with shatter-resistant glass in the near future, but it didn’t have to be done today. 

Once they had done so, she and the girls went back to work on her room while the maid service moved into the bathroom and office. This was the most difficult room for her, as it contained the most personal items. Her hands shook as she gently closed her jewelry box and placed it in the drawer to the bedside table which Chloe had just returned to its place. She wanted to be sure it wasn’t accidently binned. She had a few other difficult moments as she found pieces of clothing torn which John had chosen for her, or had just particularly liked. Those which could be mended she kept, and the rest she gently placed in the bin, reminding herself that what she loved was the memories, not the clothing itself.

It was well after dark when they finally were at a point where they couldn’t do any more. Rose ordered pizza, and they took seats at the table in her tidy little kitchen. Rose looked around, and was pleased to note that other than a few empty spots, the room looked essentially as it had before the robbery had occurred.

“Didn’t you have school today?” she asked Chloe.

The teenager shrugged one shoulder. “Mum says there are things more important,” she replied.

Beth smiled and ducked her head the slightest bit. “I thought you could use some help. Hard things are always better with two. Three is even better.”

Tears filled Rose’s eyes, and it wasn’t entirely due to the reference to “better with two” which she and her husband had lived by… the words were even engraved inside her wedding ring. “I was so afraid I’d feel alone in Broadchurch,” she said softly. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”

Beth smiled and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as well. Even Chloe looked a bit emotional. Rose never would have believed that women could bond over cleaning, but it didn’t surprise her that a crisis could bring out the best of those around her. It had always been so.

They talked a while longer, letting the conversation drift to less weighty topics including school and shopping, before the Latimers had to head back home. Rose locked up carefully behind them, then double-checked the windows and the back door as well. She turned off lights as she prepared to go upstairs, and felt her heart jump out of her chest when her mobile chimed. A glance at the screen showed it was Alec, from his mobile and not from the station.

“Hey,” she said simply.

“Hey, yourself. Wanted to check in on you, be sure you got everything taken care of today.” His voice was a little brusque, but not short as it could be when he was at work. “I didn’t call to late, did I?”

“Mostly I’m done,” she answered. “Beth and Chloe came over and helped so much. They just left. I never thought we could get it done in one day. The window is fixed, and the branch is gone. I still plan to get the locks changed, and have dead-bolts put on, but that can wait a few days.”

“That’s good. Did you make a list of everything taken or damaged?”

“Yes, and took photographs as well. I did it for insurance, but I’ll make you a copy as well.”

“That’d be helpful,” he replied. “And… how are you feeling?”

She thought about that, and decided to be honest. “Exhausted,” she said honestly. “Physically and emotionally drained. But I’m okay… It’s only things. No one was hurt; everything can be fixed or replaced, or not. In the vastness of the universe, this doesn’t even register.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “But it’s no easier for it.”

“True enough.”

“I’ll let you go, then. I just wanted to be sure you were okay staying there.”

“I’m fine,” Rose said, sounding more sure than she felt. “Doors and windows are locked, and they took everything the first run. There’s no reason for them to be back.”

“It’s not happened before. I wanted… to be sure.”

“You said that,” she told him, and was sure he must hear the smile in her voice. “And, thank you.”

“Sleep well,” he told her. “And give a call if you need anything.”

“I will, ta.”

“G’night.”

“Good night, Alec.”

She touched the red button on her phone to end the call, and looked at it for just a moment. She should probably be wondering if the D.I. called all his victims at ten o’clock at night, but she purely didn’t have the energy. In any case, it felt good to feel like she might be special – his offering his house, and checking on her late – and she didn’t want to analyze it.

She decided to forgo the shower, even though she was grubby from a day of cleaning. She would change the sheets in the morning. She changed into one of John’s old vests, brushed her teeth, and plugged in her mobile. “Hey Siri, play Queen.”

She pulled back her covers as the music started, and she climbed into bed. Just because she left the light on, it didn’t mean that she was nervous about being in the house alone. Only a few minutes later, she fell asleep to Freddie singing about living forever.

* ~ * ~ * 

The morning brought bright sunlight and freezing temperatures. It wasn’t a combination that Rose particularly enjoyed. While it was the result of a change in pressure levels and air streams, it reminded her of an icy beach where her life felt like it had ended… and felt like it had begun. Thinking of Norway first thing in the morning didn’t bode well for a peaceful day.

Rather than tea, she opted for coffee after she’d finished her shower. She curled up on the window seat with the mug in her hands, and tried not to mind the chill of the glass. She supposed these windows should be replaced as well with double-layered safety glass if possible, but it didn’t feel as urgent as it had the day before. Distance, she supposed, made the difference.

Rose was just beginning her debate of whether to scramble herself an egg or to just drink a protein shake when she heard the doorbell. Grateful she had dressed, even if she hadn’t bothered with makeup yet and her hair was in a messy, damp pony-tail, she went to answer the door.

“Ham or turkey?” he asked, stepping through the doorway with a shiver when she stepped back. He held a small bag in each hand, and was holding them up as if for display.

“Good morning,” she said pointedly. “And ham or turkey what?”

“Croissant,” he answered. “Breakfast sandwich. They’ve cheese and egg as well. Didn’t know what kind you’d like, so I got one of each.”

She smiled at him. He sounded so animated this morning, with his head ducked down into his coat to keep his ears warm. What he needed was a scarf. “Turkey,” she said, gesturing to the kitchen. “Join me? I made coffee.”

“Whatever is hot,” he answered, following her into the kitchen and shrugging off the brown overcoat.

He was dressed in his suit beneath, with his tie a bit messy, and for a moment she felt a bit fuzzy. He had shaved, she realized. That was the difference. He looked far more like John without the shadow covering his face, and yet still there were differences. Alec had far more wrinkles, and his skin was a bit darker. John had been pale, and had more freckles than she could have counted in her lifetime… not that she hadn’t tried.

“Rose?” he asked, and that was enough to snap her out of her stupor. The Scottish brogue sounded nothing like her husband’s cultured tone.

“Sorry,” she told him, offering a smile that she knew wasn’t her best. It was all she had at the moment. “Lost my train of thought. Derailed it, more like. You were saying…”

“I said the coffee sounds fine. Would you like me to get it?”

“Um… yeah. I’ll get some plates.

They worked in tandem for the few moments it took to get plates on the table, cream out for the coffee, and the small bags opened so that they could sort out the food.

Her sandwich, which turned out to be a deli-style turkey with Swiss cheese, tomato, egg, and a creamy sauce on a croissant was amazingly good. She wouldn’t have chosen it for herself, but the combination of flavors was wonderful. They ate in relative silence, neither needing to fill the pleasant time with words. As they finished, she stood to pour him another cup of coffee and collect the trash.

“I can get this,” he told her, but she shook her head at him and snatched the trash from his hand.

“You cooked, I’ll clean,” she told him. “That’s the rule in my house.”

“I hardly cooked,” he said, pink flushing through his cheeks as he said it. “I stopped at the corner market and grabbed what came to hand.”

“I didn’t cook it, so same difference.”

“I take it you don’t like cooking,” he offered, and she wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“I don’t mind it entirely,” she explained, “but it’s not my first choice of activities.”

“Daisy’s either. She’d use paper plates and drink from the bottle if I didn’t make her at least try to act like a family.

“You don’t have to have dinner at the table with fine-china to be a family,” Rose told him. “We… I still order in a lot, just because it’s easier. Mum has help for the cooking and cleaning, and that’s always been her dream.”

“And what’s your dream?” he asked her softly.

She thought about that. “My dream… will never happen,” she answered simply.

“I didn’t ask if it could happen,” he clarified. “I asked what it was. Your dream, from when you were a little girl. When you were Daisy’s age, what did you want?”

“Oh,” she said with a reminiscent smile. “So much.” She gestured towards the living room. “Let’s sit.”

They each took a cup of coffee with them to the living room, and he sat on the couch while she settled into the corner of the loveseat. “Well…”

“I’m getting to it,” she said with a smile. “And to warn you, you’ll be expected to reciprocate.” 

At that, he nodded.

“My dream,” she said again, pulling up her knees so she could rest her chin on them. “At her age, I wanted adventure and freedom, I suppose. I left school, you see, without even my A-Levels. I got tied up with a boy, and then with his bills, and it was all… really bad. I went to work in a shop, just like every other girl on the estate. I just wanted away from it all. I wanted to travel, and to see things, and to have choices in my life.”

“There isn’t a lot in the press on your background,” he said simply. 

He didn’t sound as though he was prying, but the intonation was part statement, and all question. How much should she tell him? When she had first come to this world, her mother had simply been “found” alive, not taken by the Cybermen after all. It had been more complicated for her. She decided to keep as close to the truth as possible, while still keeping with what they had told the press nearly fifteen years before.

When Mum got pregnant, they had nothing. Mum and Dad married, but both were from the estates and neither were making a go of it. They were worried for me. They kind of… gave me up for a bit. But when Dad made a go, and they wanted me back, they couldn’t find me. We sort of found one another after Canary Warf, and we’ve been a family since.”

“And when did your husband come into play?”

“I was nineteen,” she told him. “Working in that shop I told you about. He sort of rescued me, you could say. He was doing a lot of traveling and wanted someone to travel with him. I did, and we really clicked. I was away from him for a bit when I moved in with Mum and Dad, but a few years later we found one another again. Then… that was it. He was for me, and I made sure he knew it. We married shortly after, settled in, and I guess that was my dream. I wanted a home, and children, and all of it. Instead, we had each other, and it was really good. Then he got sick…”

“I’m sorry. If you’d rather not talk about this…” He looked so contrite.

“No, that’s fine. It’s good. It’s just hard to explain.” 

He nodded for her to go on, then waited 

“After we were really together, we were pretty stationary. He was a teacher, so we didn’t travel during the year. We took some amazing summer holidays, though. We went to Greece, and to Ireland. He even took me to the colonies one year, New York and California. He made everything such an adventure.”

Alec just smiled at her. “You know, your face changes when you talk about him. Your eyes just… light up. It’s really beautiful.”

Rose felt heat rise to her cheeks, and she rested her forehead against her knees.

“I didn’t mean anything by that,” he told her quickly. “I mean, you’re always beautiful. I mean… this is not coming out right.” He stood up and began to back away.

“I know what you mean,” she said. “At least, I think I do.”

He stopped backing up, but he didn’t sit back down. “You’re always lovely, but your eyes are very sad. I guess it’s an occupational hazard, but I’ve learned to read people, and there’s always this shadow over you. When you speak of him, the shadow lifts. Your eyes… it’s like they’re alive again, all bright and… I’m not making any sense.”

“You are,” she told him, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. She did neither, but tried to give him the same courtesy he’d given her. “I need more coffee,” she continued, changing the subject deliberately. “And I demand reciprocity. If I had to tell my history, then I want to hear yours.”

“Do you really?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Absolutely.”

They filled their mugs, choosing tea this time because the coffee pot was empty and the kettle was quicker than the coffee pot was. With little strings trailing from their mugs – a little paper at the end – they settled in at the kitchen table once more. Rose had taken time to bring sugar to the table, as well as the milk bottle from her refrigerator. 

“Your turn,” she prompted, then set her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands, giving him her full attention in a rather obvious manner.

He looked a little intimidated by the focus, but after taking a sip of his very weak tea, he began. “We met in secondary school. We dated, and then after we had our A-levels, we interviewed for the police force at the same time. Few days apart, but mostly the same time. I helped her train for the physical fitness exam while we were studying for the PRIT. I was able to go directly onto the force, but she was in Police Support at first. We just… had so much in common, and physically there was… attraction.” 

She smiled at his blush, but nodded for him to go on, still attentive and not interrupting.

“We moved in, and within six months were married. She got pregnant, and… God she was furious. All her plans… But it seemed okay after Daisy. She was a good mother, and even though she right back to work I knew she loved her. Daisy was… is… you can’t help but love her.”

She nodded when he looked at her as if for confirmation. “Absolutely. She’s a wonderful girl.”

“She is. She always has been, and she just loved her mummy. I always got tied up in work… It was always about the case, or the victim. It was about solving the puzzle and making things right. I made rank steadily, and Tess moved from support into investigation. It’s pretty rare for that to happen, but she was driven, and she had a knack. Fast forward a few years… I guess we just grew apart. I spent more and more time on the job, and she spent more time doing… whatever it was she did. I didn’t pay enough attention. I’m afraid Daisy may have been lost in the shuffle. We loved her, but neither of us gave her all she needed. In the end, there were more differences in what we wanted than we could work around. Her affair – that whole scandal – well, it wasn’t the first time she cheated. I just… it was so much easier not to say anything. I wanted her happy, and I wasn’t willing to give up my work.”

“Does it make it hard to trust people?” she asked.

“People lie.” He said it as fact. “They lie to get out of something they did wrong, or because they want to impress someone. Every day I deal with people who lie. At the very least, Tess was honest.”

“She didn’t take her vows seriously,” Rose said, irritated that Alec seemed to think he deserved the treatment he had received. “She lied.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I didn’t keep the vows, either. Love and honor unto death.” He shook his head. “It was all as much my fault as hers.”

 

“But…”

“It was her fault as well, aye. But the fault wasn’t all hers. It takes two to destroy a marriage. We managed it quite effectively together.”

Rose took a breath and let it out slowly. It was true, and she couldn’t argue it, but it was so different than her own experience with marriage – both her own and her parents’ – that it was difficult to rationalize.

A knock at the door caused her to jump, and she stood to go look out the window. Using the side of the window seat, it was easy to see who was there. The man she saw standing there was in a tan insulated coverall with an embroidered name patch sewn on. The van parked on the road was clearly marked as “Dave Johnson Master Locksmith, Bournemouth.”

“Looks like it’s the locksmith,” she said, moving to the door. “That’s odd. He wasn’t due until…” she looked down at her watch. “Wow!”

As she opened the door, she saw Alec glance down at his own watch and open his eyes widely in surprise. They had been talking for over two hours.

“Mrs. Tyler?” a tall man with brown hair and a name patch reading “Stan” asked from the other side of her doorway. He held up his identification, which was secured to his uniform with a metal clip.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“This says you want all doors rekeyed, locks installed on the windows, and deadbolts front and back. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” she told him. A touch on her shoulder caused her to jump.

“I’ll leave you to this,” Alec told her, slipping his coat on. “Call if you have any problems.”

“I will,” she said, realizing that for the first time, she actually meant it. At some point in the last couple of hours, he had moved from the local D.I. in her mind, to a friend.

Alec gave the locksmith a nod as he stepped through the doorway, and then headed for his car.

With a deep breath, and a chill from the air coming through the doorway, Rose invited the locksmith in to show him what windows needed locks.


End file.
